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v .-.-.. * V'V.**^ 







FOUR AMERICAN INDIANS 



King Philip 
Pontiac 



Tecumseh 
Osceola 



A BOOK FOR YOUNG AMERICANS 



BY 



EDSON L. WHITNEY and FRANCES M. PERRY 




NEW YORK -:- CINCINNATI -:- CHICAGO 

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 



w 



fUBeaHV *f C0NGRF8S 
Two OoDJes tlecaved 

OCT 13 1904 

_SoDyrf*ht Entry 
GLASS a- XXe. No. 
' COPY B 



< , Copyright, 1904, by 
Edson L. Whitney and Frances M. Perry 



Four Am. Ind. 



CONTENTS 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 

CHAPTER PAGB 

I. Philip's People . . . . . . . 7 . 9 

II. Philip's Childhood Home . ... . . 12 

III. Massasoit and His Two Sons . . . .15 

IV. Philip Hears of the English . . . '. 19 
V. Philip Meets the English 23 

VI. Philip's Education 26 

VII. Philip's Daily Life . . . / . . . 3° 

VIII. Philip's Relations with the English . . 34 

IX. Philip Becomes Grand Sachem . . . . 37 

X. Philip's Troubles with the Whites . . 39 

XL Philip and the Indian Councils . . . 42 

XII. King Philip's War . ; . . . . " 45 

XIII. The Last Days of Philip 48 



3 



4 



CONTENTS 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Meeting of Pontiac and the English 53 

II. Pontiac's Childhood 59 

III. Pontiac's Education 62 

IV. The Chief 66 

V. The Plot 70 

VI. The Seventh of May 74 

VII. Hostilities Begun 79 

VIII. The Two Leaders 84 

IX. The Siege of Detroit . 89 

X. Important Engagements 95 

XI. The End of the Siege 101 

XII. All Along the Frontier 104 

XIII. The Last of Pontiac no 



CONTENTS 5 
THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Early Years . . . - 117 

II. Youth 121 

III. Adventures of the Young Brave . . . 125 

IV. Tecumseh Dissatisfied ...... 128 

V. Tecumseh's Brother, the Prophet . . 133 

VI. Greenville 137 

VII. The Prophet's Town c 144 

VIII. The Council Between Harrison and 

Tecumseh . 149 

IX. Preparations for War 155 

X. The Battle of Tippecanoe 161 

XL Reorganization of the Indians . . 166 

XII. Tecumseh and the British 170 



6 



CONTENTS 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Exodus of the Red Sticks . . . , . 179 

II. The Florida Home 183 

III. The First Seminole War ..... 189 

IV. Grievances 194 

V. The Treaty of Payne's Landing . .... . , 202 

r: VI. Hostilities . 207 

VII. The War Opened . . . . . . . . 212 

VIII. Osceola a War Chief . .... . . 219 

IX. The Seminoles Hold Their Own . . . 223 

X. Osceola and General Jesup 228 

XL The Imprisonment of Osceola .... 233 

XII. The End . . . . . ... . . . 238 



THE STORY OF 

KING PHILIP 

BY 

EDSON L. WHITNEY 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



I. PHILIP'S PEOPLE 

Philip, ruler of the Wampanoags, was the only Indian 
} m our country to whom the English colonists gave the 
'title of king. Why no other Indian 
ever received this title I cannot tell, 
neither is it known how it happened 
to be given to Philip. 

The Wampanoags were a tribe of 
Indians whose homes were in what is 
now southeastern Massachusetts and | 
in Rhode Island east of Narragansett i 
Bay. A few of them, also, lived on i 
the large islands farther south, Nan- 
tucket and Martha's Vineyard. 

Three centuries ago Massasoit, 
Philip's father, was the grand sachem, or ruler, of the 
Wampanoags. His people did not form one united tribe. 
They had no states, cities, and villages, with governors, 
mayors, and aldermen, as we have. Nor did they live 
in close relations with one another and vote for common 
officers. 

On the other hand, they lived in very small villages. 
A few families pitched their wigwams together and lived 

9 




IO THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 

in much the same way as people do now when they camp 
out in the summer. 

Generally, among the Wampanoags, only one family 
lived in a wigwam. The fathers, or heads of the families 




WIGWAMS 

in the different wigwams, came together occasionally and 
consulted about such matters as seemed important to 
them. 

Every one present at the meeting had a right to 
express his opinion on the question under consideration, 
and as often as he wished. All spoke calmly, without 
eloquence, and without set speeches. They talked upon 
any subject they pleased, as long as they pleased, and 
when they pleased. 



PHILIP'S PEOPLE 



1 1 



The most prominent person in a village was called 
the sagamore. His advice and opinion were generally 
followed, and he governed the people in a very slight 
manner. 

The Indians of several villages were sometimes united 
together in a petty tribe and were ruled by a sachem, or 
chief. 

The chief did not rule over a very large tract of coun- 
try. Generally none of his subjects lived more than 
eight or ten miles away from him. 

He ruled as he pleased, and was not subject to any 
constitution or court of any kind. In fact, he was a 
leader rather than a ruler. Nevertheless, a wise chief 
never did anything of great importance without first 
consulting the different sagamores of his tribe. 

The chief held a little higher position in the tribe 
than the sagamore did in his village. He settled dis- 
putes. He held a very rude form of court, where justice 
was given in each case according to its merits. He sent 
and received messengers to and from other tribes. 

As several villages were united in a single petty tribe, 
so also several petty tribes were loosely joined together 
and ruled over by a grand sachem. 

The different Wampanoag tribes which owed allegi- 
ance to Philip and his father, Massasoit, were five in 
number besides the small bands on the islands of Nan- 
tucket and Martha's Vineyard. The village where the 
grand sachem lived was called by them Pokanoket. 



I 2 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



II. PHILIP'S CHILDHOOD HOME 

Massasoit had several children. The eldest son was 
named Wamsutta, and the second Metacomet. In later 
years, the English gave them the names of Alexander 
and Philip, which are much easier names for us to pro- 
nounce. 

We do not know the exact date of Philip's birth, for 
the Indians kept no account of time as we do, nor did 
they trouble to ask any one his age. It is probable, 
however, that Philip was born before 1620, the year in 
which the Pilgrims settled near the Wampanoags. 

Philip spent his boyhood days playing with his 
brothers and sisters, and with the neighbors' children ; 
for although he was the son of a grand sachem, he had 
no special privileges above those of the other children 
around him. 

We are apt to think of a prince as a man that does 
very little work. We expect him to attend banquets, to 
be dressed in military uniform, with a beautiful sword at 
his side and many medals on his breast, to be surrounded 
by servants, and to have everybody bow down to him 
and stand ready to do his bidding. 

It was very different with Philip. He lived in no 
better way than did the other members of his tribe. His 
home was neither better nor worse than theirs. His 
food was of the same quality. His daily life was the 
same. He wore no uniform. He never heard of medals 
or badges. He had no servants. His father differed 



PHILIP'S CHILDHOOD HOME 



13 



from the other Indians only in being their leader in time 
of war and in being looked up to whenever the chiefs of 
the tribe held a meeting, or council. 

Philip's home was not such as American boys and 
girls are brought up in. There were no toys, no baby 
carriages, no candy. There were no romps with the 
parents, for the Indians were a quiet, sober people, and 
rarely showed any affection for their children. 

Philip's father never played any games 
with him. In fact, in his younger days the 
boy never received very much attention from 
his father. He was taken care of by his 
mother. He was never rocked in a cradle, 
but was strapped in a kind of bag made of 
broad pieces of bark and covered with soft 
fur. Sometimes he was carried in this on his 
mother's back, as she went about her work. 
Sometimes he was hung up on the branch indian baby 
of a tree. 

The little house in which he lived was called a wig- 
wam. It was circular, or oval, in shape, and made of 
barks or mats laid over a framework of small poles. 
These poles were fixed at one end in the ground, and 
were fastened together at the top, forming a framework 
shaped somewhat like a tent. 

Two low openings on opposite sides of the wigwam 
served as doors. These were closed with mats when 
necessary, thus making the place tight and warm. 

The wigwam had but one room. In the middle of it 




H THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 

were a few stones which served as a fireplace. There 
was no chimney, but the smoke passed out through an 
opening at the top of the wigwam. 

On one side of the fireplace was a large couch made 
of rough boards raised perhaps a foot above the ground 
and covered with mats or skins. The couch was very 

wide, so that Philip and 
the rest of the children 
could lie on it side by 
side at night. 

There was no other 
furniture in the room. A 
few baskets were hung on 
the walls ready for use. 
' --vS? _ .• ' ~-r_'~ "7 A few mats were placed 
"~"* £ .~ "fT~ here and there as orna- 

mount hope ments. The dishes that 

held Philip's food were 
rude vessels made of baked clay, of pieces of bark, of 
bits of hollowed stone, or of wood. 

There was very little desire to keep the wigwam neat 
and tidy. It was used for only a few months, and then 
given up for a new one that was built near by. In the 
summer it was customary to pitch the wigwam in an 
open place. In the winter it was pitched in the thick 
woods for protection from the winds and storms. 

Such was the home in which Philip was brought up. 
It differed but little from those of his playmates, for 
there was no aristocracy among the Indians. The place 




MASSASOIT AND HIS TWO SONS 15 

where Massasoit and his family generally lived was near 
the present site of Bristol, on a narrow neck of land pro- 
jecting into Narragansett Bay. It is now called Mount 
Hope, and is twelve or fifteen miles southeast of 
Providence, Rhode Island. 



III. MASSASOIT AND HIS TWO SONS 





In the early evening, during his boyhood days, 
Philip delighted to sit near the camp fire where the mem- 
bers of his tribe were wont to gather. There he eagerly, 
listened to the stories of adventure told by his elders, 
and wished that he was old enough to enter into the 
sports that they so interestingly described. 

Although children were not expected to talk in the 
presence of their elders, Philip frequently showed his 



1 6 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



interest in their stories, by asking many questions in 
regard to the places visited by the older Indians. 

In those days news traveled slowly from one little vil- 
lage to another, for there were neither telegraphs nor tele- 
phones; no, not even railroads. In fact, there were no 
roads, and even the paths through the woods were so 
little used that it was difficult to find one's way from one 
place to another. The Indians kept no animals of any 
kind, and always traveled from place to place on foot. 

One pleasant evening in June, in the year 1620, 
little Philip noticed that there was less general story- 
telling than usual, and that the Indians seemed greatly 
interested in a long story which one of their number was 
telling. He could not understand the story, but he fre- 
quently caught the words, "Squanto" and "English." 
These were new words to him. 

The next evening, as Philip and his brother were sit- 
ting by the fire, they asked their father what had caused 
the Indians to be so serious in their talk, and what the 
long story was about. 

"Squanto has come home," his father replied. 

"And who is Squanto?" asked Philip. 

Then his father told him a story, which was too long 
to be repeated here. But in brief it was as follows : 

Several years before — long, in fact, before Philip was 
born — a ship had come from across the sea. It was 
larger than any other vessel the Indians had ever seen. 

The only boats that Philip knew anything about were 
quite small, and were called canoes. They were made 



MASSASOIT AND HIS TWO SONS 



17 



either of birch bark fastened over a light wooden frame, 
or of logs that had been hollowed by burning and 
charring. 

But the boat from across the sea was many times 




INDIAN IN CANOE 



larger than any of theirs — so Massasoit explained to the 
boys — and had accommodations for a great many men. 
Instead of being pushed along by paddles, it was driven 
by the wind by means of large pieces of cloth stretched 
across long, strong sticks of wood. 

The Indians did not go down to the shore, but 

FOUR IND.— 2 



i8 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



watched this boat from the highlands some distance 
inland. Finally the vessel stopped and some of the men 
came ashore. The Indians looked at the strangers in 
astonishment. Their skin was of a pale, whitish color, 
very different from that of the Indians, which was of a 
copper or reddish clay color. 

The white men, or the pale-faced men, as Massasoit 
called them, made signs of friendship to the Indians, and 
after a few minutes persuaded them to go down to the 
shore. There the two peoples traded with each other. 
The Indians gave furs and skins, and received in return 
beads and trinkets of various kinds. 

When the vessel sailed away it carried off five Indians 
who had been lured on board and had not been allowed 
to return to shore. These Indians had not been heard 
from since, and that was fifteen years before. 

Little Philip's eyes increased in size, and instinctively 
he clenched his fists at the thought of the wrong that 
had been done his people by the palefaces. 

His father went on with the story, and told him how 
the Indians then vowed vengeance on the white man; 
for it was a custom of the Indians to punish any person 
who committed a wrong act towards one of their number. 

From time to time, other vessels visited their shores, 
but no Indian could ever be induced to go on board any 
of them. 

Nine years later, another outrage was committed. 
The palefaces while trading with the Indians suddenly 
seized upon twenty-seven of the latter, took them to 



PHILIP HEARS OF THE ENGLISH 



19 



their vessel, and sailed away with them before they could 
be rescued. Is it any wonder that Philip felt that the 
whites were his natural enemies? 

After that time, Massasoit said, the Indians had re- 
fused to have any dealings with the whites. Whenever a 
white man's vessel came in sight, the Indians prepared 
to shoot any one that came ashore. And now another 
white man's vessel had arrived on the coast, and several 
of its crew had landed in spite of all that could be done 
to prevent them. 

To the great surprise of Massasoit's men, there was 
an Indian with these palefaces. And that Indian proved 
to be Squanto, one of the five who had been taken away 
fifteen years before. 

This is but a bare outline of what Massasoit told his 
sons. It seemed to the lads like a fairy tale, and for 
days they talked of nothing but this strange story. 



IV. PHILIP HEARS OF THE ENGLISH 

During the following summer young Philip heard 
many an interesting story about the English. Squanto 
himself came to see Massasoit several times, and from 
him Philip heard the story of his adventures across 
the sea. 

Late in the fall, long before Philip had lost his inter- 
est in the stories of Squanto, another English vessel 
arrived on the coast of the Indian country. 



20 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



On the eleventh day of November, 1620, the vessel 
anchored near Cape Cod. Sixteen palefaces came 
ashore. They did not act like the others who had pre- 
ceded them. They made no effort to become acquainted 
with the Indians, but spent their time in looking around 
and in examining the country. 

They found four or five bushels of 
corn, which had been stored for the 
winter by an Indian, and carried it 
away to their vessel. 

This angered the Indians, and 
we can well imagine the thoughts 
that passed through the mind of the 
boy Philip when he heard that the 
English had stolen the corn that 
belonged to a poor Indian, one of 
his father's friends. 

The Indians talked the matter 
over by their camp fire, and little 
Philip listened to the story as eagerly as he had listened 
to the story of Squanto six months before. 

A week or so later, more news came to Mount Hope. 
The palefaces had visited the shore a second time, and 
on this occasion had stolen a bag of beans and some 
more corn. 

How Philip's anger increased as he heard his father 
talk the matter over with the other Indians ! 

A few days afterwards Philip heard still other news of 
the English. They had come ashore a third time. The 




WATCHING THE PALEFACES 



PHILIP HEARS OF THE ENGLISH 



2 I 



Indians had watched them from a distance. Finally, 
when a good opportunity offered itself, thirty or forty 
Indians quietly surrounded the palefaces, and at a given 
signal every one of them yelled at the top of his voice 
and began to shoot arrows at the hated visitors. 

For a time it looked as if the palefaces would be 
driven into the water. But soon they fired their guns, 
and the Indians ran away frightened at the noise. 

Philip was greatly interested in the description that 
was given of a gun. He had never so much as heard of 
one before, and he thought it very strange that any one 
should be afraid of little pieces of lead. He could not 
see why it was not as easy to dodge bullets as it was to 
dodge arrows. 

A week or two later still further news was brought to 
Massasoit's village. The palefaces had left Cape Cod 
and had sailed across the bay to Patuxet (to which the 
English gave the name of Plymouth). There they had 
gone ashore and had built some log cabins, evidently 
with the intention of staying for some time. 

This was something that the Indians could not under- 
stand. Every day some of them went to the top of the 
hill which overlooked the little settlement to see what 
the English were doing. Then they returned to Mount 
Hope with something new to tell about the palefaces, 
and Philip eagerly listened to every story that was 
related. 

Several meetings of the Indians were held during the 
winter, at which Philip was always present, and finally 



22 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



one of their number, whose name was Samoset, was sent 
to Plymouth to ask the English why they had settled in 
this land which belonged,, of right, to the red men. 

Samoset returned a few days later. He told his 
story to the Indians around the camp fire, little Philip, 
as usual, paying great attention to what was said. 

Samoset said that the palefaces had been very kind 
to him, and had told him that they had come to this 
country to settle, that they wanted to live on the most 
friendly terms with the red men, and that they desired 
to pay not only for the corn and beans which they had 
taken, but also for the land on which they had built 
their village. 

At the close of his story the Indians expressed them- 
selves as satisfied with the palefaces, and Philip felt that 
perhaps the English were not so bad as he had thought 
them to be. 

Samoset was then sent to the settlers to tell them 
that Massasoit and some of his friends would like to 
meet them for a friendly talk about many things that 
might otherwise become a cause of disagreement between 
them. He brought back word that the English eagerly 
welcomed the opportunity to meet the Indians, and had 
offered to see them on the following day. 




PHILIP MEETS THE ENGLISH 



2 3 



V. PHILIP MEETS THE ENGLISH 

The next day Massasoit and sixty of his warriors 
visited the English. They did not go into the English 
village, but stopped on the top of the hill near by. 

Philip was not with them, for at this time he was too 
young to go so far away from home. We can imagine 
his feelings, however, when he saw 
his father and the warriors start out 
on their journey. 

They were dressed in costumes 
that would look very strange if seen 
on our streets to-day. Their cloth- 
ing was made of the raw skin of wild 
animals. Their feet were protected 
by moccasins made of thin deer- 
skin. Each one was tall, erect, and 
active, with long, coarse, black hair falling down his back. 

None of them had any physical deformities, for it 
was the custom of the tribe to kill any child that was 
born deaf, dumb, blind, or lame. 

Each one was decked with his personal ornaments. 
These did not consist of gold, silver, diamonds, or any 
other precious stones so familiar to us. The Indians 
knew nothing about these. Their ornaments consisted 
of ear-rings, nose-rings, bracelets, and necklaces made 
out of shells or fish-bones or shining stones, which were 
very common in that neighborhood. 

Their faces were smeared with heavy daubs of paint. 




2 4 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



Each one had a cloak thrown over his shoulders, and he 
also wore a head-dress made of feathers or quills. To Philip 
it seemed as if he had never seen anything so imposing. 

We can imagine how eagerly Philip listened to the 
story that his father told when he came back home: how 
the settlers came out to meet him on the hill, and made 
him a present of three knives, a copper chain, and an 
ear-ring, besides several good things to eat, very different 
from anything he had ever tasted before. 

Then Massasoit described the treaty that he had made 
with the palefaces in which the settlers and the Wam- 
panoags had agreed to remain friends and to help each 
other in every way they could. To make the treaty as 
strong as possible, the palefaces had written it down on 
paper and had signed their names to it. The Indians 
did not know how to read or write. That was something 
that they had never heard of before. But they drew 
rude pictures at the end of the writing and called these 
pictures their names. 

Philip never tired listening to the stories about the 
palefaces. He was still too young to be taken to their 
settlement, but he longed for a chance to see them. 

Suddenly, one day in the middle of the summer of 
162 i, about four months after the Indians had made their 
treaty with the whites, six warriors came into the little 
Indian village at .Mount Hope with two men, who Philip 
saw were palefaces. They were not so tall as the In- 
dians. They were thicker set, and their faces were 
covered with beards. 



PHILIP MEETS THE ENGLISH 



-5 



Massasoit recognized them immediately, for they 
were some of the party that he had met at Plymouth. 
They had come on a friendly visit to him, and had 
brought him a red cotton coat and a copper chain. Philip 
was greatly pleased to see the palefaces, of whom he had 
heard so much. He listened to their stories, answered 
their inquiries in regard to Indian life, and learned what 
he could about their homes and customs. 

After this, the settlers called on the Indians many 
times, and Philip soon became very well acquainted with 
them. 

During the next few months several white men came 
from England and settled at Weymouth, a few miles 
north of Plymouth. These new settlers were not so 
honest as those that had settled at Plymouth. They 
stole from the Indians and otherwise injured them, and 
caused them to plot against all the whites in the country. 
But before their plans were carried out Massasoit was 
taken sick. The medicine man was called in. 

The medicine man was the physician. He had 
learned the medicinal virtues of a few simple herbs. He 
knew how to bind up wounds in bark with certain prepa- 
rations of leaves, and he could also cure a few fevers. 
He went through many magical ceremonies with howls, ", 
roars, and antics of various kinds. If the sick man 
became well, the medicine man took all the credit; if 
the patient died, then the medicine man said that the 
bad spirit had too strong a hold on him. 

But the medicine man did not help Massasoit. Philip 



26 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



watched by his father's side and saw him grow worse 
day by day. He remembered how, only a few years 
before, the smallpox had carried away large numbers of 
the Indians, and now he began to think that the days of 
his father, too, were numbered. 

But one day a paleface, one of the leaders of the 
colony at Plymouth, came into the Indian village. He sent 
the medicine man away and tenderly nursed Massasoit 
himself. He gave him medicine, nourished him with 
several little delicacies, and brought him slowly back to 
health. 

Massasoit was so. grateful for the kindness shown him 
that he told the palefaces of the Indian plot against 
them. 

The whites at Weymouth were driven away and the 
palefaces at Plymouth continued to live on most excel- 
lent terms of friendship with the Wampanoags. 

In the years that followed, Philip became better 
acquainted with the whites, and while he never loved 
them, he had great respect for their wisdom. 



VI. PHILIP'S EDUCATION 

During the next twenty years many more white men 
came and settled on or near the lands of the Wampanoags. 

In the mean time, Philip grew to manhood and re- 
ceived the same education that was given to the other 
young men of his tribe. It was very different from the 
education received by us to-day. The Indians had no 



PHILIP'S EDUCATION 



27 



schools. Philip did not learn his A B C's or the mul- 
tiplication table. He never learned how to read or 
write. He knew nothing about science, and could not 
even count, or keep track of time. 

His education was of a different character, and was 
intended to make him brave, daring, hardy, and able to 
bear pain; for these things were thought by the Indians 
to be of the greatest importance. 

He was taught to undergo the most horrible tortures 
without a word of complaint or a sign of anguish. He 
would beat his shins and legs with sticks, and run prickly 
briars and brambles into them in order to become used 
to pain. He would run eighty to one hundred miles in 
one day and back in the next two. 

When he neared manhood he was blindfolded and 
taken into the woods far from home to a place where he 
had never been before. 

There he was left with nothing but a hatchet, a knife, 
and a bow and arrows. The winter was before him, and 
he was expected to support himself through it. If he 
was unable to do so, it was better for him to die 
then. 

Philip passed the lonely winter far away from home. 
Many times did he wish that he was back in his father's, 
wigwam where he could talk with his parents and his 
brothers and his friends, and know what the palefaces 
were doing. 

But he knew that if he should return to his little 
village before the winter was over he would be branded 



28 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



as a coward, and never be considered worthy to succeed 
his father as sachem. 

What, he, Philip, a prince, afraid? No, no, no! Of 
course he was not afraid. What was there to be afraid 




THE YOUNG HUNTER 

of? Had he not always lived in the woods? Still, he 
was a little lonely, and once in a while he wanted some 
one to talk with. 

So Philip went to work with a will. With his hatchet 
he cut down some small trees, made them into poles, 
and placed one end of them in the ground. With his 
knife he cut some bark from the trees and laid it over 



PHILIP'S EDUCATION 



2 9 



the poles so that he had a fairly comfortable shelter from 
the storms and winds which he knew would soon surely 
come. Then he spent several days in hunting birds and 
wild game in the forest. With his bow and arrows he 
shot enough to support himself through the winter. 

Many an adventure did he have. Many a time did 
he lie down at night without having tasted food during 
the whole livelong day. Many a savage beast did he 
see, and on several occasions he climbed trees, or crawled 
into caves, or ran as fast as he could, to get out of their 
way. 

But he had a strong will. He knew that the son of 
the grand sachem of the Wampanoags could do anything 
that any other Indian had done. And so he passed the 
long, cold winter, bravely and without complaining. 

In the spring, when his father and friends came after 
him, they found him well and strong. His winter's work 
had made him healthy and rugged. He was taken home, 
and a feast was prepared in honor of Massasoit's son who 
had returned to his home stronger than when he had 
gone away the fall before. 

During the next two moons — for the Indians counted 
by moons and not by months as we do — Philip led an 
idle- life. He did no work of any kind. He was taking 
his vacation after the hard winter life he had led alone 
in the woods. 

But his education was not yet finished. His body 
had been made strong. It was next necessary to 
strengthen his constitution against the evil effects of 



3 o 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



poison. He again went into the forest, and daily found 
poisonous and bitter herbs and roots. These he bruised 
and put the juices into water, which he drank. 

Then he drank other juices which acted as antidotes 
and prevented his sickness or death. He did this day 
after day until his constitution became used to the poisons, 
and he was able to drink them freely without any harm 
coming to him. 

Then he went home. The people sang and danced and 
gave him another great feast. He was now considered 
a man and ready to marry and have a wigwam of his own. 

The wedding ceremony was extremely simple. There 
were no presents, no flowers, no guests, no ceremony, 
no banquet. Philip simply asked a certain woman to 
come and live with him. She came and was thereafter 
his wife, or squaw, as the Indians called her. 

We have no record of the date of his marriage, for 
the Indians kept no such records. We only know that 
it took place soon after his return from his battle with 
poisons in the woods. 



VII. PHILIP'S DAILY LIFE 

We should consider the daily life of Philip very 
monotonous. It was the same, day by day, year in and 
year out, with very little change. The little village 
where he lived contained fewer than one hundred inhabi- 
tants. Everybody was thoroughly acquainted with 
everybody else. 



PHILIP'S DAILY LIFE 31 

There was no society such as we have to-day. 
Philip's squaw did not dress herself up in the afternoon, 
and make calls on the other squaws. If she wished to 
talk with them she went where they were, whether it 
was morning, afternoon, or evening. 

There were no parties, no receptions, no theaters, 
no art museums, no libraries, no books, no music, no 
fireworks, no holidays, no Sabbath. The Indians be- 
lieved in a good and a bad spirit, but they had no 
churches or temples or service or worship or priests. 

So we cannot think of Philip sitting in the best pew 
in church, and listening to a grand sermon, preached by 
the most famous minister in the country. Philip knew 
nothing of sermons. 

He played no games that instructed his mind. He 
cared for only such games as would strengthen his body, 
increase his power of endurance, or develop his muscle 
or his craftiness. With the other Indians he played 
football, tossed quoits, wrestled, ran, and jumped. 

Occasionally he engaged with them in the war dance. 
This was performed in a very solemn manner. It repre- 
sented a war campaign, or a sham battle, as we say. 
First, the Indians came together from different direc- 
tions. Then they marched forward stealthily and quietly, . 
lay in ambush, awaited the coming of the enemy, sud- 
denly jumped out and rushed upon them, slaughtered 
them, retreated, and finally went home. The dance 
ended with the reception at home, and the torturing and 
killing of the prisoners. 



3 2 THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 

These were his amusements. His occupations were 
two in number: hunting and fishing. 

In the fall of the year, and again in the spring, he 
spent about three months in hunting. In company with 
his brother or some close friend, he went in search of a 
supply of meat for the use of the family, and of skins to 
sell to the white men or to use for clothing. 

After reaching the hunting-grounds, they built a big 
wigwam where they stayed at night. There also they 
stored the skins of the animals they had captured. 

Many stories might be told of the exciting adventures 
they had with bears and wolves. The woods of New 
England contained many moose and other wild animals, 
and generally Philip returned to his little village with 
meat enough to last all winter. Frequently he brought 
home as many as one hundred beaver skins. 

But Philip, like others, had bad luck sometimes. 
Now and then he lost his way in the woods, and on one 
or two occasions the raft on which he was taking his 
skins across the river upset and the results of his winter's 
labor were lost. 

He captured his game by shooting or snaring, or by 
catching it in pitfalls. When the hunting season was 
over he spent his time in fishing. Generally he caught 
his fish in nets, although occasionally he used a hook 
and line. 

When not engaged in hunting or fishing, or attending a 
meeting of Indian princes, he was generally to be found 
near his wigwam, asleep or watching his squaw at work. 



PHILIP'S DAILY LIFE 



33 



All the work around the wigwam was done by his wife 
or squaw. According to the Indian view she was his slave. 
She covered and lined the wigwam, plaited the mats and 
baskets, planted, tended, and harvested the corn and 
vegetables, cooked the food, ate the leavings, and slept 
on the coldest side of the wigwam. 




SQUAWS AT WORK 



Many Indians did not care very much for their squaws, 
and made their lives miserable by treating them badly, 
and showing them no sympathy nor love in any way 
whatever. But we are told that Philip was better than 
the other Indians in this respect. He loved his wife 
and treated her as a companion instead of as a slave. 

Philip had no pots and kettles like ours. His wife 
roasted his meat by placing it on the point of a stake. 

FOUR 1ND. — 3 



34 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



She broiled it by laying it on hot coals or hot stones. 
She boiled it in rude vessels made of stone, earth, or wood, 
and heated the water by throwing hot stones into it. 

Philip's only garden tool was a hoe, made of clam 
shells or of a moose's shoulder-blade fastened to a wooden 
handle. He also had a rude axe or hatchet made of a 
piece of stone, sharpened by being scraped on another 
stone, and tied to a wooden handle. His arrows and 
spears were tipped with bone or with triangular pieces of 
flint. These were all home-made, for Philip, like other 
Indians, was obliged to make his own hatchets and 
arrows. 

Finally, Philip never went to the store to buy things 
to be used at home, for the Indians kept no stores. His 
wife raised the corn, squashes, and pumpkins, and he 
caught his own fish and game. These, with nuts, roots, 
and berries, gave him all the food he needed. 



VIII. PHILIP'S RELATIONS WITH THE ENGLISH 

Such was the daily life of Philip year after year, with 
but little change. Occasionally he met the palefaces in 
the woods or at his father's village. Now and then he 
went to Plymouth and traded with them. Several of 
them he considered to be his strong personal friends. 

We have already seen how greatly interested he was 
in his boyhood days at the coming of the white men and 
how friendly he felt toward them at that time. He, his 



PHILIP'S RELATIONS WITH THE ENGLISH 35 



father, and the other Wampanoags continued to remain 
on friendly terms with the English, although several other 
Indian tribes did not. 

Between the years 1628 and 1640 many white people 
settled forty or fifty miles north of Plymouth, in what is 
now Boston and Salem, and other cities and towns near 
Massachusetts Bay. 

Others settled inland on the Connecticut River, near 
the present boundary line between Massachusetts and 
Connecticut, about seventy-five miles west from Mount 
Hope, the home of Philip. Others settled at Providence, 
and still others on the island of Rhode Island, fifteen to 
twenty miles south of Mount Hope. 

The settlers on the Connecticut had trouble with the 
Pequots, a tribe of Indians living to the west of the 
Wampanoags, and in the war that followed, all the Pe- 
quots were killed. The whites also had trouble with the 
Narragansetts, who lived near Providence, outbreaks 
occurring every year or two for several years. 

During these years Philip and his father did nothing 
to injure the settlers in any way. They refused to aid 
the other Indians in their wars with the English, prefer- 
ring to remain faithful to their early treaty with the 
whites; and the whites remained on the most friendly 
terms with them. 

Philip knew nothing of the Christian religion. Several 
attempts were made by the whites to convert the Indians 
to Christianity. In 1646, John Eliot translated the Bible 
into the Indian language, taught the Indians the English 



3 6 THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 

habits of industry and agriculture, and established near 
Boston two towns composed entirely -of converted 
Indians. 

At the same time, Thomas Mayhew preached to the 
Wampanoags on Martha's Vineyard, and there converted 
a great many. By the year i6; 5 , four thousand Indians 
had been converted to Christianity. 

But the missionaries were not successful with Philip 
and the Wampanoags at Mount Hope. They utterly 
refused to listen to the preachers. They preferred their 
former mode of life, and there were several good 
reasons for this preference, as they thought. 

Philip noticed that many white men who called them- 
selves Christians were in the habit of stealing from the 
red men, and cheating them whenever they could. He 
could not see that the Christian religion made them 
more happy, more honest, or better than he was. 

Again, he noticed that, as soon as the Indians were 
converted, they left their former life and companions 
and joined themselves to the English. This tended to 
lessen the control of the chiefs over their tribes, and so 
reduced their power. Thus he saw that a great deal 
might be lost by changing his religion, or by urging his 
followers to change theirs. 

Nevertheless, Massasoit and his sons remained strong 
friends to the Plymouth people until 1661, when Massa- 
soit died, being about eighty years of age. 



PHILIP BECOMES GRAND SACHEM 37 



IX. PHILIP BECOMES GRAND SACHEM 

According to the custom of the Indians, Wamsutta, 
the eldest son of Massasoit, succeeded his father as 
grand sachem of the Wampanoags. 

Almost his first act was to go to Plymouth, where he 
made some requests of the settlers. These were granted. 
Then he asked for an English name, and was given the 
name of Alexander. 

He was so much pleased with this name that he asked 
for an English name for his younger brother, Metacomet. 
The English gave him the name of Philip, by which 
name we have been calling him in our account of his life. 

A few days later, ten armed men suddenly appeared 
at the place where Wamsutta and several of his followers 
were holding a feast, and arrested them all. Wamsutta 
was taken to Plymouth immediately, and charged with 
plotting with the Narragansetts against the English. 

Being seized by force on their own grounds, and 
compelled to go to Plymouth to answer charges based 
on rumor, was a new experience for the Wampanoags. 
It was very different from the friendly manner in which 
they had been treated formerly. 

The English treated Wamsutta very well at Ply- 
mouth. They could prove nothing against him, and 
hence they soon let him go. On his way home he died. 

As Wamsutta left no children, he was succeeded by 
his brother Philip. There was no ceremony of crowning, 
no procession, no speeches. In fact, there was no 



3S 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



crown at all; nor was there any ceremony of any kind. 
The other Indians merely obeyed Philip just as they 
had formerly obeyed his father and his brother. 

Philip and all the members of the Wampanoag tribe 
believed that Wamsutta's death was due to poison which 
had been given him by the whites when he was at 
Plymouth. According to the belief and custom of the 
Indians, it was Philip's duty to take vengeance on those 
who had caused his brother's death. 

Still, Philip made no attempt to injure the whites in 
any way. But the whites became suspicious, probably 
because they felt that they had done wrong; and very 
soon they summoned Philip to Plymouth to answer a 
charge of plotting against them. 

Philip acted very honorably in the matter. Instead 
of hiding in the forest, as he might easily have done, he 
went to Plymouth. There he had a long talk with the 
whites. He denied that he had plotted against them. 
He showed them that it was against his own interests to 
have any trouble with them, and as proof of his good 
intentions toward them, he offered to leave his next 
younger brother with them as a hostage. 

He agreed to continue the treaty that his father had 
made forty years before. He went further, and acknowl- 
edged himself to be a faithful subject of the King of 
England, and promised not to make war on any Indian 
tribe unless the English first gave their consent. 

For several years Philip was grand sachem of the 
Wampanoags and kept this treaty with great faithfulness. 



PHILIP'S TROUBLES WITH THE WHITES 39 



During this time his duties were similar to those which 
his father had had, and his life was uneventful. He was 
consulted by the other sachems of the tribe, and his 
advice was generally followed by them. 

Like his father, the good Massasoit, he was inclined 
to be conservative; that is, he did not like to change the 
established order of things. He was very much liked by 
the Indians, who felt that he tried to treat them all 
honestly and fairly. 

He went to Plymouth very frequently, to visit the 
whites and to trade with them. And, likewise, the 
whites frequently came to Mount Hope to see him. 

The relations between the whites and the Indians 
were such that it was perfectly safe for a white man to 
go anywhere among the Wampanoags unarmed. This 
is something that cannot be said of any other. Indian 
tribe in the colonial days. The Indians, acting under 
orders from King Philip, treated the whites honestly and 
fairly. In fact, there was a feeling of great friendship 
between the whites and the Indians. 



X. PHILIP'S TROUBLES WITH THE WHITES 

■ Ten years passed by peacefully, except for one little 
trouble which occurred in 1667, six years after Philip 
became sachem. An Indian told the people at Plymouth 
that Philip had said that he wished the Dutch would 
beat the English in the Avar which was then being carried 
on between Holland and England. 



4 o 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



The Plymouth people were very much surprised at 
this, and immediately called Philip to account. But he 
denied ever making any such statement, and offered to 
surrender all his arms to the English in order to show 
that he had no hostile designs against them. This satis- 
fied the English. Everything went on quietly until 
1 67 1, when troubles between the two races finally began 
to arise. 

In that year Philip complained that the English were 
not living up to their agreement which they had made 
with him ten years before. . At the request of the people 
of Plymouth, Philip went to Taunton, a village near his 
hunting-grounds, and talked matters over with them. 

He was accompanied by a band of warriors armed to 
the teeth and painted. The meeting was held in the 
little village church. Philip and his Indians sat on one 
side of the room and the English on the other. 

A man from Boston, who was thought to be friendly 
to both parties, was chosen to preside over the meeting. 
Then the Indians and the settlers made speeches, one 
after the other, just as is done in meetings to-day. 

Philip admitted that lately he had begun to prepare 
for war, and also that some of his Indians had not treated 
the whites justly. But he also showed that the English 
were arming themselves, and that many of them had 
cheated the Indians when dealing with them. 

Philip said that he preferred peace to war, and had 
only armed his warriors in self-defense. Finally, it was 
decided to make a new treaty. 



PHILIP'S TROUBLES WITH THE WHITES 41 



Here is a copy of the new treaty as it was drawn up. 
Notice the quaint way of expressing the ideas, and also, 
that many words are not spelled as we spell them to-day. 
Notice, too, how one-sided the treaty is, and that it is 
signed only by Philip and the Indians. 

COPY OF THE TREATY MADE AT TAUNTON, 
APRIL 10, 1671. 

Whereas my Father, my Brother, and my self have formerly 
submitted our selves and our people unto the Kings Majesty 
of England, and this Colony of New-Plymouth, by solemn Cove- 
nant under our Hand, but I having of late through my indiscre- 
tion, and the naughtiness of my heart, violated and broken this my 
Covenant with my friends by taking up arms, with evill intent against 
them, and that groundlessly ; I being now deeply sensible of my 
unfaithfulness and folly, do desire at this time solemnly to renew my 
Covenant with my ancient Friends and my Father's friends above 
mentioned; and doe desire this may testifie to the world against me 
if ever I shall again fail in my faithfulness towards them (that I have 
now and at all times found so kind to me) or any other of the English 
colonyes; and as a reall Pledge of my true Intentions, for the future 
to be faithful and friendly, I doe freely ingage to resign up unto the 
Government of New-Plymouth, all my English Armes to be kept by 
them for their security, so long as they shall see reason. P'or true 
performance of the Premises I have hereunto set my hand together 
with the rest of my council. 

In the presence of The Mark of Philip, 

Chief Sachem of Pokanoket 

William Davis. The Mark of Tavoser. 

William Hudson. Capt. Wisposke. 

Thomas Brattle. Woonkaponehunt. 

Nimrod. 

But Philip doubted the sincerity of the English. He 

hesitated to give up his arms. Then the settlers ordered 

him to come to Plymouth and explain why. 



4 2 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



Instead of obeying, he went to Boston and complained 
there of the treatment he had received. He said that 
his father, his brother, and himself had made treaties of 
friendship with the English which the latter were trying 
to turn into treaties of subjection. He said he was a 
subject of the King of England, but not of the colony of 
Plymouth, and he saw no reason why the people of 
Plymouth should try to treat him as a subject. 

The people of Massachusetts again made peace 
between Philip and the settlers at Plymouth. But it 
could not long continue, for each side had now become 
thoroughly suspicious of the other. 

In 1674, an Indian reported to the settlers that Philip 
was trying to get the sachems of New England to wage 
war on the whites. A few days later, that Indian's dead 
body was found in a lake. The English arrested three 
Indians and tried th em for the murder. They were found 
guilty and were executed, although the evidence against 
them was of such a character that it would not have been 
admitted in a court of justice against a white man. 



XI. PHILIP AND THE INDIAN COUNCILS 

Philip thought the matter over. He felt that the 
English had done the Indians great injustice. 

In the first place, the land had originally belonged 
to the Indians. It was not of great value to them, for 
they used it mainly for hunting purposes. So they had 
very willingly parted with a few acres to the English in 



PHILIP AND THE INDIAN COUNCILS 



43 



return for some trinkets of very little value — such as a 
jack-knife, or a few glass beads, or little bells, or a 
blanket. 

Then the English had forbidden the Indian to sell his 
land to any white man. He was allowed to sell only to 
the colonial government. This was done in order to 
protect him from white men who wanted to cheat him; 
but Philip only saw that it prevented his giving away 
something of little value to himself, and getting some- 
thing he wanted in return. 

Before the English came, the woods were full of game 
and the streams were full of fish. Now Philip noticed 
that the game was going from the woods and the fish 
from the rivers. He felt that the Indians were becoming 
poorer and the English were getting richer. 

Only the poorer lands were owned by the Indians 
now. All the best were in the hands of the white men. 

Philip was also tired of the airs of superiority assumed 
by the whites. They looked upon the Indians as fit only 
for servants and slaves. He thought that his people 
were as good as the whites. He felt that the bonds of 
love and sympathy between the two races had been 
broken. 

In spite of his many complaints and requests, the 
English had failed to punish unprincipled white men 
who had done wrong to the Indians. 

Finally, those Indians who had been converted to 
Christianity had left their old tribes and their former 
modes of life. This had weakened the power of the 



44 THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 

Indians, and Philip began to think that the English were 
Christianizing the Indians simply for the purpose of get- 
ting control of their lands. 

Philip felt that the question was too deep a one for 
him to solve. He called the sachems of the Wampa- 
noags together, and talked the matter over with them. 
Several meetings were held, and every member expressed 
himself on the subject very freely. 

The question then arose, what should they do? It 
very soon became evident that two opposite opinions 
were held. 

It was not the custom of the Indians to vote on any 
questions that were discussed at their meetings. They 
talked the matter over and then adopted the plan that 
most of them thought was best. But at this time they 
were unable to decide what to do in order to get back 
that which they had lost, and how to prevent losing any 
more. And so they kept on talking over plans. 

Fifty-five years of peace and friendship with the 
English had resulted in giving the white men all the land 
of any value, while the Wampanoags were decreasing in 
numbers and each year were finding it more and more 
difficult to live. 

The young warriors urged immediate action. They 
wanted war, and wanted it then, and desired to keep it 
up until the English should be driven out of the country. 

Philip was opposed to this. He knew how strong 
the English were, and that it would be impossible to 
drive them out. He saw that the time had gone by 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 



45 



when the English could be expelled from the country. 
He threw his influence with the older warriors, and for a 
while succeeded in holding the younger men in check. 
He felt that the Indians could never be successful in a 
war with the English when the tribe owned only thirty 
guns and had no provisions laid aside to carry them 
through the war. 



XII. KING PHILIP'S WAR 

Philip did his best to keep at peace with the English. 
For a while he succeeded. But his young warriors 
began to steal hogs and cattle belonging to the settlers, 
and on one pleasant Sunday in June, 1675, when the 
people were at church, eight young Indians burned a 
few houses in the village of Swansea, the nearest town 
to the Wampanoag headquarters at Mount Hope. The 
whites immediately raised a few troops, marched after 
the Indians, and had a little skirmish with them. 

Philip was not with his warriors at the time. The 
attack on the whites had been made against his express 
orders. When he heard that the Indians and settlers 
had really had a battle, he wept from sorrow, something 
which an Indian rarely does. 

Everything seemed to go wrong. He tried to make 
peace with the whites, but they would not listen to him. 
The young warriors no longer paid any attention to what 
he said. They went on destroying property and killing 
cattle. 



46 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



After leaving Swansea, they went to Taunton and 
Middleboro, where they burned several houses and killed 
a few persons. But troops soon arrived from Boston 
and Plymouth, and in a few days the Indians were driven 
back to their homes at Mount Hope. 

The English hurried on after them, and the war that 
followed is known in history as King Philip's War. 

Philip and the Indians swam across Narragansett Bay 
and went to some of their friends in the Connecticut 
Valley. There they obtained the help of the Nipmucks, 
who had never been very friendly towards the English. 

We do not know where Philip was during the war. 
He knew that he would be held responsible for it, 
although he had done everything in his power to pre- 
vent it. For a year the war was carried on, one hundred 
miles away from his home, and never once was he known 
to have been connected with any fighting, nor was he 
even seen by the English during that time. Some of 
them thought that he was directing the war, but really 
it was carried on by other tribes of Indians that had not 
been very friendly towards the whites. The Wampa- 
noags seem to have had very little connection with the 
war. 

The Indians attacked the English towns in the Con- 
necticut Valley, and the more exposed places on the 
frontier of the colony where the people were few and 
scattered. 

No battle was fought in the open field. The Indians 
did not fight in that way. They secretly surrounded a 



KING PHILIP'S WAR 



47 



town, rushed in from all sides, killed as many people as 
possible, took what property they could carry away, and 
burned all that remained. 

They knew all the paths in the forests, swamps, and 
thickets. They were fast runners, and went rapidly from 
town to town. 

Their favorite method of fighting was in an ambus- 
cade. That was something ^ 
peculiar to the Indians. The 
English had never heard of that 
way of fighting before they 
came to America. The Indians 
would lie down flat on the 
ground or stand behind trees 
or in a bush or thicket. When 
the enemy came along with no 
suspicion that any one was near, the Indians suddenly 
gave a yell and fired their arrows or guns at them. 
This would startle them and generally cause them to run 
away. 

The war was one of the most dreadful in the history 
of our country. A farmer left his home in the morning 
not knowing whether he would ever see his wife and chil- 
dren again. His gun was always in his hand. Laborers 
were cut off in the field. Reapers, millers, women at 
home, and people on their way to and from church were 
killed. 

Nearly every town in the Connecticut Valley was 
destroyed by the Indians, and the people suffered ter- 




HOUSE PROTECTED BY PALISADES 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



ribly. The Indians were very successful during the first 
year of the war. They lost but few warriors and did an 
immense amount of injury to the whites. This caused 
the young warriors to believe that Philip and the old 
warriors were wrong, and that it was really possible for 
them to drive the English from the country. 



XIII. THE LAST DAYS OF PHILIP 

During the winter there was very little fighting. In 
the spring the Indians did not fight with any spirit. 
They had begun to get tired of the war. Many wished 
for peace. The Narragansetts who had been helping in 
the war had suffered a terrible defeat from the English. 

The English began to understand better the Indian 
method of fighting. They attacked the Indians wher- 
ever they could find them. They surprised several large 
forces of Indians in different places. Then it began to 
look as if Philip and the old warriors were right and the 
young warriors were wrong. 

Several sachems had been killed. The Indians had 
no stores of corn. The English tore up every field that 
the Indians planted. Finally, the Indians gave up hope. 
They were being starved out. During the summer of 
1676, large numbers of them surrendered to the whites. 

Philip was not seen from the time he swam across 
Narragansett Bay until in July, 1676, when he returned 
to his old home at Mount Hope. His wife and son had 



THE LAST DAYS OF PHILIP 49 

been captured earlier in the spring, and he knew that the 
cause of the Indians was lost. • 

He wanted to see his old home once more, the place 
where he had lived for sixty years, but which he felt he 
was now going to lose forever. We can see him as he 
returned to his home, now desolated by war, his wig- 
wam destroyed, his cornfield trodden down, his family 
taken from him, his friends taken captive in the war. 
He felt that the war was wrong, that his young warriors 
had been too hasty in starting it without making proper 
preparations for it. He looked into the future. It 
seemed very dark to him. 

The war indeed was nearly over. The Wampanoags 
were talking about surrendering. Philip knew that sur- 
render meant death for him. He refused even to think 
of it. When one of his warriors suggested it to him he 
killed him on the spot. 

The English soon learned that Philip had returned to 
his old home. They surrounded him. On the twelfth 
day of August, 1676, he was shot in an ambuscade by 
the brother of the Indian he had killed for suggesting 
that he surrender. 

And now, see how barbarous the English settlers 
could be. They cut off his hands and quartered his 
body, leaving it to decay on four trees. They carried 
his head to Plymouth, and placed it on the end of a pole. 
Then they appointed a public day of thanksgiving. 

Philip's wife and children were taken to the Bermudas 
and sold as slaves, in common with the other Indians 

FOUR IND. — 4 



THE STORY OF KING PHILIP 



captured in the war. Thus the Wampanoag tribe of 
Indians came to an end. 

Philip was unjustly blamed by the Plymouth people 
for starting the war. They thought that he was in 
league with several other tribes in Xew England and 
New York, and that he intended to drive out the Eng- 
lish if he could. That was why they fought so desper- 
ately, and at the end of the war removed the remnants 
of the tribe from Xew England. It is true that the 
Indians would have been obliged to move in time. 
Philip undoubtedly saw that, but he believed that peace 
was best and he urged it on his followers. The English 
did not know this, and the result was that Philip was 
held responsible for a war which he had opposed from 
the outset. 



THE STORY OF 

PONTIAC 

BY 

FRANCES M. PERRY 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



I. THE MEETING OF PONTIAC AND THE ENGLISH 

Though the French were still fighting stubbornly at 
sea, the French war was over in America. Canada had 
been surrendered to the British, and England's banners 
waved over Quebec. Yet the tidings of defeat had not 
reached the French garrisons on the Great Lakes. 

In the fall of 1760 Major Robert Rogers, with two 
hundred British rangers, set out in fifteen whale boats, 
to carry to the interior the news of the surrender and 
to take possession of the French forts on the lakes. 

This was a somewhat dangerous task. For, although 
no resistance was to be feared from the French, the sav- 
ages who were in league with them could not be counted 
on to understand or believe the changed state of affairs. 
Indeed, it was doubtful if they would even allow the 
British a hearing before attacking them. 

Rogers and his men, however, coasted along the 
shores of Lake Erie without adventure until early in 
November. Then the weather became so stormy and the. 
lake so rough that the commander decided to go ashore 
and camp in the forest until the tempest had passed. 

The rangers were glad to feel the solid earth under 
their feet and to find shelter from the driving wind and 

53 



54 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



rain. Nevertheless, they soon realized that the forest was 
not without its dangers. 

They had not been long ashore when a large band of 
Indians entered the camp. These Indians said that Pon- 
tiac, chief of the Ottawas, had sent them before him 
to demand of the Englishmen how they dared to come 
into his country without his permission. 



brothers, the French. Why do you bring armed warriors 
into my country without asking my consent ? You can 
not go farther until Pontiac leaves your path." 




Before night- 



PONTIAC AND ROGERS 



fall the famous 
warrior himself 
stood in the pres- 
ence of the Eng- 
lish commander 
and his officers 
and spoke in this 
fashion : "Eng- 
lishmen, I am 
Pontiac, greatest 
councilor and war- 
rior of the Otta- 
was. This land 
belongs to my 
people. You are 
the enemies of my 
people. You are 
the enemies of our 



MEETING OF PONTIAC AND THE ENGLISH 



To this haughty speech Rogers answered : " Broth- 
er, we come to tell you that the war is over. Our mighty 
English warriors have made your French brothers shake 
with fear. YYe have slain their war chiefs ; we have 
taken their strong villages. They have begged us for 
mercy. They have promised to be the dutiful and obedi- 
ent children of the English king if we will lay down the 
hatchet and fight against them no more. They have 
given us their guns, their forts, and all the land of Can- 
ada. I have come into your country to take Detroit. I 
shall" not fight with your brothers, the French ; I shall 
not shoot them. I shall show their commander a paper 
and he will pull down his flag and he and his men will 
come out of the fort and give me their guns. Then I 
shall go in with my men and put up my flag. 

''The English king is terrible in war. He could pun- 
ish the Indians and make them cry for mercy, as he has 
the French. But he is kind and offers to his red children 
the chain of friendship. If you accept it he is ready to 
shut his eyes to the mischief the French have put you up 
to in the past, and to protect you with his strong arm.'" 

Pontiac listened gravely to every word the white 
man spoke. But his dark face gave no token of what 
was passing in his mind. Now, Indians despise rash- 
ness, and it is their custom to deliberate over night before 
answering any important question. So, with the dignity 
of one who knows no fear and craves no favor, the 
greatest councilor of the Ottawas replied simply : "Eng- 
lishmen. I shall stand in your path till morning. In the 



56 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



meantime if your warriors are cold or hungry the hands 
of my people are open to you." Then he and his chiefs 
withdrew, and slipped silently back through the dripping 
forest to their camp. 

The English rangers slept with their guns at hand 
that night. They knew the pride and might 
and treachery of Pontiac, and they feared him. 
They felt as if they were in a trap, with the 
raging sea before them and the forest alive 
with pitiless savages behind. 

But they need have had no fear, for the 
great chief thought not of massacre that night. 
He thought of the English who stood ready 
to avenge any harm done to their brothers ; of 
his own race dependent on the white men for 
rum, for wampum, for guns and powder and 
bullets. Clearly the Indians must have friends 
among the palefaces. The French were their 
"brothers." They had given them presents, 
had married their maidens, had traded, hunted, 
and gone to battle with them. The English 
were their foes. But they were many and strong. They 
had beaten the French and taken their guns. The red 
men must let their hatred sleep for awhile. They would 
smoke the pipe of peace with the English, and the Eng- 
lish would give them presents: tobacco and rum, guns 
and powder. 

Having reached this conclusion, Pontiac and his 
chiefs returned to Rogers's camp on the following morn- 




MEETING OF PONTIAC AND THE ENGLISH 



57 




ing. There they smoked the calumet with the English and 
exchanged presents and promises of kindness and friend- 
ship. The men who had met as enemies parted as friends. 

Years later, when British armies were marching 
against Indians whose tomahawks were red 
with English blood, Pontiac's faith in the 
friendship of Rogers remained unshaken. 
The latter sent to the chief a bottle of rum. 
When advised not to drink it lest it should 
contain poison, Pontiac replied : " I did not 
save from death on the shores of Lake Erie 
a man who would to-day poison me," 
and he drained the bottle without hesi- 
tation. 

Though a single Indian and a 
single Englishman could thus over- 
come their distrust for each other, the 
feelings of the two races could 
not be so easily altered. The 
Indians looked upon the Eng- 
lish as cruel robbers, whose 
object was to drive them from their homes and possess 
their lands. They thought of them as enemies too power- 
ful to be withstood by open force and therefore to be met 
only with cunning and deception. Many of the English 
looked upon the savages as ignorant, filthy, and treach- 
erous beings, little better than wild beasts, and thought 
that the world would be better off without them. Yet 
for the present both were glad to be at peace. 




CALUMET 



5§ 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



The Indians found that Major Rogers had spoken 
truly about Detroit. When they saw the large French 
garrison yield without resistance they were filled with 
wonder, and said to one another: 'These English are 
a terrible people. It is well we have made friends with 
them." 

By "making friends" with the English, the Indians 
had no notion of accepting them as masters. The French 
had seemed pleasant neighbors and valuable friends. 
When they occupied the fort the Indians had always 
found a warm welcome there. Their chiefs had been 
treated with great pomp and ceremony. " They had re- 
ceived rich presents and great promises. They expected 
the English to show them the same consideration. But 
they were disappointed. The new masters of the fort 
had little patience with the Indian idlers, who loafed 
about at the most inconvenient times in the most incon- 
venient places, always begging, and often sullen and inso- 
lent. They frequently ordered them in no mild terms to 
be off. The chiefs received cold looks and short answers 
where they had looked for flattery and presents. 

The Indians resented the conduct of the English bit- 
terly, and when Pontiac learned that they claimed the 
lands of his tribe, he said within himself : "The hatred 
of the Ottawas has slept long enough. It is time for it 
to wake and destroy these British who treat the red man 
as if he had no right to the land where he was born." 



PONTIACS CHILDHOOD 



59 



II. PONTIACS CHILDHOOD 

We love our country principally because of the polit- 
ical freedom its government allows us. As we study its 
history, the lives of its heroes, 
and the struggles they have 
made for the liberties we en- 
joy, our patriotism grows 
stronger. 

Pontiac loved his country, 
too, but in a much simpler and 
more personal way, as you will 
understand when you have 
learned about the proud chief- 
tain's boyhood and youth. 

The birds scarcely know the 
forest so well as he did. When 
he was a tiny baby, — a fat, 
brown, little pappoose, — his mother used to bundle him 
up in skins, strap him to a board, and carry him on her 
back when she went to gather the bark of the young bass- 
wood tree for twine. As the strong young squaw sped 
along the narrow path, soft and springing to her mocca- 
sined feet with its depth of dried pine needles, the baby, 
on her back was well content. Even if he felt cross 
and fretful the regular motion pleased him ; the cool dim 
green of the forest rested him; the sweet smell of the 
pines soothed him; and the gentle murmur of the wind 
in the tree tops soon lulled him to sleep. 




SQUAW WITH PAPPOOSE 



6o 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



When the mother clambered over a large tree trunk 
that had fallen across the path and the little pappoose 
was jolted wide awake, he did not cry. His beady black 
eyes followed every stray sunbeam and every bounding 
rabbit, or chance bird with wonder and delight. When 
his mother went to work she placed his rude cradle be- 
side a tree where he could look on, out of harm's way. 




INDIAN SQUAW AT WORK 



He was very little trouble, and she always took him with 
her when she went to get cedar bark, to gather rushes for 
mats and herbs for dyes, to pick up fagots for the fire, 
or to get sap from the sugar tree. So it happened that 
when he grew up Pontiac could not remember a time 
when the dark forest did not seem like home to him. 

As soon as he was old enough to understand words, 
he heard his mother laughing with her neighbors about 



PONTIAC'S CHILDHOOD 



61 



the men in the village who stayed about their wigwams 
like women. Now, he thought that a wigwam or bark 
lodge was a very pleasant place. The small, dark, oven- 
shaped room, smoky and foul with the smell of fish and 
dirt, was home to him — the mud floor, worn smooth and 
hard with use, was strewn with mats and skins which 
served for chairs and beds. There was a fireplace in the 
center, and over it a rack on which smoked fish hung, 
well out of the reach of the wolf-like dogs that lay about 
gnawing at old bones. It was usually dry in wet weather, 
warm in cold weather, and cool when the sun was hot. It 
was where he went for food when he was hungry ; it was 
where he slept on soft buffalo robes and bear skins when 
he was tired; it was where he heard good stories, and, 
best of all, it was where his mother spent most of her time. 

But before Pontiac was many years old he knew that 
the wigwam was the place for women and children, and 
that it was a shame for a man not to follow the deer 
through the forest, and go upon the warpath. He saw 
that if a man stayed at home and loved ease and comfort 
his squaw would scold him with a shrill tongue. But if 
he went off to hunt, it was different. Then, when he 
came home for a short time, he might lounge on a bear 
skin while his squaw worked hard to make him happy, 
cooking his meals, fetching clear water from the spring, 
and dressing the skins he had brought from the hunt. 

Pontiac liked to watch his mother while she stood 
Weaving the wet rushes into mats to cover the lodge in 
summer, or while she sat on the floor with her feet crossed 



62 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



under her, making baskets out of sweet grass or em- 
broidering with brightly dyed porcupine quills. But if he 
showed his pleasure or offered to help her, she looked stern 
and shook her head, saying, "Go out into the field and run ; 
then you will be swift when you are a man ;" or "go into 
the forest and shoot rabbits with your little bow and arrow, 
so that you may one day be a great hunter like your father." 

All this made little Pontiac feel that the great fields 
and forests were his — his to find his pleasure in while 
he was a boy ; his to find his work in when he should be- 
come a man. 

He learned, too, that bis very life depended on the 
forests he loved. He could never forget the cruel winter 
days when he had asked his mother again and again for 
fish and meat, and she had told him to be still and wait 
till his father brought meat from the forest. And he had 
waited there long with his hollow-eyed mother, crouching 
before the feeble fire, starving with hunger. He had 
strained his ears toward the great white forest only to 
hear the wail of the winds and the howl of the wolves. 
But at last the yelp of the dogs was sure to be heard, 
and then the half-frozen hunters would appear, dragging 
the deer over the crusted snow. 



III. PONTIAC'S EDUCATION 

Pontiac's father was a war chief. But it did not 
follow that therefore Pontiac would be a war chief. He 



PONTIAC'S EDUCATION 



63 



would have to prove himself strong and brave, a good 
hunter and a good warrior, or his tribe would choose 
some more able leader. 

Pontiac, like most small 
boys, took his father for his 
pattern. His ambition was to 
be like him. But he was told 
early, "Be a good Indian. Be 
a good Ottawan. Be true to 
your tribe. Be a strong man 
and help your people. But 
don't think about being chief. 
The greatest brave must be 
chief of the Ottawas." 

Yet, Indians love glory and 
perhaps in the bottom of their 
hearts Pontiac's father and 
mother hoped that he would 
one day be a chieftain. At any 
rate they did all they could to train him to be a worthy 
Indian. 

They were sometimes very severe with him. If he 
was rude to strangers or to old people; if he lost his 
temper and threw ashes at his comrades ; if he told a false- 
hood, he was beaten. He had broken the laws of the 
Great Spirit, and the Great Spirit had commanded that 
parents should beat their children with rods when they 
did wrong. The boy understood this and he tried to 
take his punishment bravely that he might regain the 




INDIAN WARRIOR 



64 



THE STORY OF FONTIAC 



good will of the Great Spirit. He stood quite still and 
endured heavy blows without whimpering or flinching. 

He learned, too, to endure hunger and great fatigue 
without complaint. He raced, and swam, and played ball, 
and wrestled with other boys till his body was strong and 
straight and supple. He played at hunting and war in 
the forest, until his eyes became so sharp that no sign of 
man or beast escaped them. 

But he did not depend altogether on his eyes for in- 
formation. He could find his way through a forest in 
the dark, where the dense foliage hid the stars. Perhaps 
the wind told him the direction by the odors it brought. 
He could tell what kind of trees grew about him by the 
feel of their bark, by their odor, by the sound of the wind 
in the branches. He did not have to think much about 
his course when on a journey. His feet seemed to know 
the way home, or to the spring, or to the enemy's camp. 
And if he had traveled through a wilderness once he 
knew the way the next time as well as any boy knows 
his way to school. 

While Pontiac was training his body, his parents took 
care that he should not grow up in ignorance of the 
religion and the history of his people. He heard much 
about the Great Spirit who could see all he did and 
was angry when he said or did anything dishonest or 
cowardly. 

The laws of the Great Spirit were fixed in the boy's 
mind, for his mother was always repeating them to him. 
She would say as he left the wigwam : "Honor the gray- 



PONTIAC'S EDUCATION 



65 



headed person," or "Thou shalt not mimic the thunder ;" 
"Thou shalt always feed the hungry and the stranger," 
or "Thou shalt immerse thyself in the river at least ten 
times in succession in the early part of the spring, so that 
thy body may be strong and thy feet swift to chase the 
game and to follow the warpath." 1 

In the evenings the older members of the family and 
some visiting Indians sat around the fire and told stories 
about the Great Spirit and many other strange beings, 
some good and some evil. They told, too, wonderful tales 
about omens and charms. The same story was told over 
and over again, so that in time little Pontiac knew by 
heart the legends of the Ottawas. He remembered and 
firmly believed all his life stories that as a child he lis- 
tened to with awe, in his father's wigwam. 

In the same way he heard about the great deeds of the 
warriors of his tribe; and he came to think there were no 
people in the world quite equal to the Ottawas. He 
heard of other tribes that were their foes and he was eager 
to go to war against them. 

As he grew older he heard a good deal about men, 
not only of another tribe but of another race, the palefaces, 
who were trying to get the lands of the Indians. Then 
he thought less about being an Ottawa and conquering 
other Indians ; while every day he felt more and more that 
he was an Indian and must conquer the white man. He 
wished he could unite the tribes in friendship and lead 
them against these strangers who were so many and so 

1 Translated from the Ottawa language by A. Blackbird. 
Four Ind. — 5 



66 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



strong, and who had come to drive the Indians from their 
homes and hunting grounds. 

Such thoughts made Pontiac very serious. Obeying 
the commands of the Great Spirit, the young Indian often 
blackened his face with a mixture of charcoal and fish-oil, 
and went into the depths of the forest, where he remained 
for days without food, praying and thinking earnestly 
about the future. 

He formed his own plans, but he hid them in his 
heart. He practised keeping his feelings and thoughts 
to himself, and spoke only when he was very sure he was 
right. This habit soon gained him a reputation for grav- 
ity and wisdom. 



IV. THE CHIEF 

When he was old enough to go to battle with the 
tried warriors, Pontiac took many scalps and distinguished 
himself for courage. He was, therefore, amid great feast- 
ing and rejoicing, made a war chief of the Ottawas. 

His influence increased rapidly. The young men of 
his tribe felt sure of success when they followed Pontiac 
to battle. His very name made his foes tremble. 

In the council, too, his power grew. His words 
seemed wise to the gray heads, and the young warriors 
were ready to take up the hatchet or lay it down at his 
bidding. Because of his eloquence and wisdom, Pontiac 
was made sachem, so that he not only led his people to 
battle, but also ruled them in time of peace. He was called 



THE CHIEF 



6 7 



the greatest councilor and warrior of the Ottawas; yet 
he was not content. 

In Michigan, where the Ottawa Indians lived, there 
were other tribes of the Algonquin Indians. Chief among 
these were the Ojibwas and the Pottawottomies. These 
tribes, though related by marriage and on friendly terms, 
had separate chiefs. But gradually they came to recog- 
nize the great Pontiac as their principal ruler. 

Among the Indians of his own tribe Pontiac's word 
was law. Among kindred tribes his friendship was 
sought and his displeasure feared. Through all the Al- 
gonquin territory, from the Lakes to the Gulf, from the 
mountains to the river, the great chiefs name was known 
and respected. 

Pontiac was no doubt proud and ambitious. But 
if he was glad to gain glory for himself he considered 
the good of his people also. To unite them and over- 
power the palefaces was the end toward which he planned. 

By this time he had learned that all palefaces were not 
alike. There were two great nations of them, the French 
and the English, and the Indians had found a great differ- 
ence between them. The English had treated them 
with contempt and helped themselves to their lands. 
The French had come among them as missionaries 
and traders, with kind words and gifts. To be sure, they 
had built forts in the land, but they told the Indians they 
did this for their sake that they might protect them from 
the English, who wished to take their lands. The French 
seemed to hate the English no less than the Indians did. 



68 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



It is said that Pontiac planned to use the French to 
help him conquer the English, and then intended to 
turn upon them and drive them away. No doubt if the 
French had openly claimed the territory of the Indians., or 
in any way had shown that their professions of friendship 
were false, Pontiac would have been their enemy. But 
he evidently took them at their word and looked upon 
them as friends who wished to help his people. 

In all his dealings with the French, Pontiac was true 
and honorable. He joined them in their wars against 
the English. He and his Ottawas helped to defeat the 
British regulars under General Braddock at Fort Du- 
quesne. He saved the French garrison at Detroit from 
an attack by hostile Indians. He trusted them when all 
appearances were against them. His acceptance of the 
peace offered by Major Rogers on the shore of Lake 
Erie was not a betrayal of the French. Pontiac did not 
forsake their cause until they had given it up themselves. 
He took a step which seemed for the best interests of his 
own people, and, at the same time, not hurtful to the 
French. We have seen that he was disappointed in the 
reward he expected. 

The English, having subdued the French, felt able to 
manage the Indians without difficulty. They were, there- 
fore, more careless than ever about pleasing them. They 
refused to give the supplies which the French had been 
accustomed to distribute among the Indians. The In- 
dians were obliged to provide for themselves, as in the 
days of Pontiac' s childhood. They had no powder or 



THE CHIEF 



6 9 



bullets and the young men had lost their skill with the 
bow. There was suffering and death for want of food. 

Even Pontiac had been willing to 
profit by the generosity of the French. 
He had not only cheered himself with 
their firewater, but, like other Indians, he 
had been glad to give up his bow and 
arrow for a gun; he had been ready to 
accept corn and smoked meats in winter 
when game was scarce, and to protect 
himself from the cold with the French- 
men's blankets. 

He realized now that in adopting the 
white men's customs, in using their food 
and blankets and arms, his people had be- 
come dependent upon them. He remem- 
bered the stories he had heard in his child- 
hood about the might of the Indian weapon 
Ottawas in the days when they 
depended on the chase for their 
food, and fought their battles 
with bows and arrows and stone 
hatchets. He wished his people 
would return to the old customs. 
In that way only could they re- 
gain their native hardihood and 
independence. 

While Pontiac's hatred of 
the English grew more bitter daily, other Indians were 





INDIAN WEAPON 



70 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



not indifferent. Through all the Algonquin tribes spread 
this hatred for the English. The insolence of the garri- 
sons at the forts provoked it ; the cheating, the bad faith, 
and the brutality of the English trappers and traders 
increased it; the refusal of supplies, the secret influence 
of the French, the encroachments of English settlers, 
fanned it into fury. And when at last, in 1762, word 
came that the English claimed the land of the Algonquins 
their rage could no longer be restrained. 



V. THE PLOT 

The time was ripe for rebellion and Pontiac was 
ready. All over the land should council fires be lighted. 
All over the land should the hatchet be raised. By wile 
and treachery the forts should fall. By fire and blood- 
shed the settlements should be laid waste and the English- 
men driven into the sea. Thus spoke Pontiac, -and thus 
spoke his messengers, who with Avar belts of black and 
red wampum and hatchets smeared with blood sought 
out the villages of the Algonquins. Far and wide this 
dark company went its way through forests, across 
prairies, in spite of storm or flooded stream, or mountain 
barrier. No camp was so secret, no village so re- 
mote, that the messengers of war did not find it out. 
Wherever they went the bloody plan found favor; the 
tokens of war were accepted and pledges of warlike pur- 
pose sent to Pontiac. 



THE PLOT 



73 



Not far from the summering place where clustered 
the lodges of Pontiac and his kinsmen rose the walls of 
Fort Detroit. There Pontiac had suffered humiliation 
at the hands of the English, and upon it he planned to 
visit his vengeance. 

The little French military station planted on the west 
bank of the Detroit River had reached half a century's 
growth. It had become a place of some importance. 
Both banks of the river were studded with farmhouses 
for miles above and below the "fort," as the walled 
village where the soldiers lived was called. 

The fort consisted of about one hundred small houses 
surrounded by a palisade, or wall of heavy stakes, twenty- 
five feet high. Since gates are easily broken down, over 
every gate a block house had been built, from which sol- 
diers could fire upon the approaching enemy. At the 
four corners of the palisade were bastions, or fortified 
projections, from which the inmates could see the whole 
length of the wall and shoot any one attempting to climb 
it, set fire to it, or do it any harm. 

The small log houses within were crowded together 
with only narrow passage-ways between. They were 
roofed with bark or thatched with straw. To lessen the 
danger of fire a wide road was left between the wall and 
the houses. Besides dwelling houses, there were in the 
fort the barracks where the soldiers stayed, the church, 
shops, and the council house, where meetings with the 
Indians were held. 

At this time the garrison consisted of about one 



72 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



hundred and twenty men. But counting the other in- 
mates of the fort and the Canadians who lived along the 
river, there were about two thousand five hundred white 
people in the Detroit settlement. On the outskirts of 
the settlement hung the Indian villages, much as the 
Indian villages crowd around the white settlements of 
Alaska to-day. 

In the midst of the wilderness this little band of 
English lived protected by their log walls. No friends 
were near. Their nearest neighbors were the conquered 
French, who regarded them with jealousy and dislike. 
Not far away were their Indian enemies. Yet they 
thought little of danger. 

Occasionally some story of Indian treachery, some 
rumor of Indian hostility, or some omen of evil rilled 
the garrison with vague alarm. In October, 1762, dense 
clouds gathered over the fort, and soon rain black as- ink 
fell from them. This strange occurrence stirred up the 
fears of the settlers. Some said that it was a sign that the 
end of the world was at hand ; others, that it was a sign of 
war. But by the spring of the next year the settlers of 
Detroit had ceased to think of the black rain and war. 

If a few had suffered unrest because of the Indians, 
their fears were put to flight by a visit which Pontiac 
made to Detroit late in April. With forty of his chiefs 
he came to the fort asking to be allowed to perform the 
peace dance before the commander. The request was 
granted, and a good-natured crowd gathered near Major 
Gladwin's house to see the Indian dance. 



THE PLOT 



73 



No one thought anything of the fact that ten of the 
party took no part in the dance, but strolled around the 
fort prying into everything. Those who noticed them 
at all, thought their conduct showed nothing more than 
childish curiosity. 

No one dreamed that these men were spies, and 
that the sole purpose of the visit was to discover the 
strength of the garrison. The Indians left with prom- 
ises to come again to smoke the calumet with the Eng- 
lish when all their chiefs should assemble after the win- 
ter's hunt. 

After visiting Detroit, Pontiac sent swift-footed run- 
ners to all the tribes in the neighboring country, calling 
the chiefs to a council to be held in the village of the Pot- 
tawottomies. 

When the day for the great council arrived, all the 
women were sent away from the village so that they could 
not overhear the plans of the chiefs. At the door of the 
great bark lodge where the chiefs met, sentinels were 
posted to prevent interruption. 

When all had taken their places in the council room 
Pontiac rose and laid before his trusted chiefs his crafty 
plans. On the seventh of May the young warriors should 
gather on the green near Detroit to play ball, while the 
older men lay on the ground looking on, or loitered in 
and about the fort. The squaws should go about the 
streets with guns and tomahawks hidden under their 
blankets, offering mats and baskets for sale, or begging. 
Later Pontiac, with the principal chiefs would arrive, and 



74 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



ask to hold a council with the commander and his officers. 
While speaking in the council he would suddenly turn 
the wampum belt that he held in his hand. At that sig- 
nal the chiefs should throw off the blankets that hid their 
weapons and war paint, and butcher the English before 
they could offer resistance. When the Indians outside 
heard the clamor within the council house they should 
snatch the guns and knives that the squaws carried, fall 
upon the surprised and half-armed soldiers, kill them 
and plunder and burn the fort, sparing only the French. 

From the Indians' point of view this seemed a brave 
plot. No one objected to the treachery. All the gut- 
tural sounds that broke from the throng of listeners were 
made for approval and applause. 



VI. THE SEVENTH OF MAY 

The Indians kept their secret well. A Canadian saw 
some Indians filing off their guns to make them short 
enough to hide under their blankets. But if his suspicions 
were aroused he held his peace and said no word of warn- 
ing to the English. The appointed seventh of May was 
at hand and no alarm had been taken at the garrison. 

But on the evening of the sixth, Major Gladwin talked 
long in secret with his officers, then ordered half the gar- 
rison under arms. He doubled the guard and himself went 
from place to place to see that every man was at his post. 
The soldiers did not know the reason for this unusual 
watchfulness, but they understood that it meant danger. 



THE SEVENTH OF MAY 



75 



It is said that in the afternoon an Indian girl who 
was deeply attached to the English Major had brought 
him a pair of moccasins she had been embroidering for 
him. She lingered at the fort and seemed unwill- 
ing to leave. At last she begged Gladwin to go 
away from the fort for a day or two. Her conduct 
and request excited 
suspicion. The Ma- 
jor questioned her 
closely and discov- 
ered Pontiac's plot. 

Be that as it may, 
on the night of the 
sixth Major Glad- 
win was on the alert. 

Nothing disturb- 
ed the peace of the 
mild May night. In 
the morning one 
watchman on the 
walls said to another, 
" See, yonder they 
come." 

The man ad- 
dressed looked up 
the stream and saw many birch canoes rapidly approach- 
ing the fort. " A perfect fleet ! " he exclaimed. 

"Yes; plenty of boats, but not many Indians; only 
two or three in each canoe," replied the first. 




BETRAYAL OF PONTIAC'S PLOT 



7 6 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



'That's true. But see how deep the canoes are in the 
water, and what heavy paddling those fellows are doing ! 
A dozen beaver skins to one, every canoe's got a load 
of those red rascals stretched on their backs well out of 
sight." 

"You may be right," said the other, shaking his head. 
"It looks as if there might be some ugly work before us. 
They say the Major has ordered the whole garrison 
under arms. Even the shops are closed and the traders 
armed to the teeth." 

Most of the Indians who came in the boats went to a 
green near the fort and began a game of ball. Soon Pon- 
tiac himself was seen approaching along the river road at 
the head of sixty of his chiefs. They wore blankets and 
marched in single hie without a word. When they 
reached the gate Pontiac, with his accustomed dignity, 
asked that he and his chiefs might meet their English 
brothers in council to discuss important questions. 

In answer to his request the gates swung open. Lines 
of armed soldiers appeared on either side. The Indians, 
trained to read signs, knew at once that their plot was 
discovered. Perhaps they felt that the treachery they 
had planned would be visited on their own heads. But 
if they feared, they gave no token; they said no word. 
They walked undaunted through the narrow streets, 
meeting armed soldiers at every turn. 

At the council house they found Major Gladwin, his 
assistant, Captain Campbell, and other officers already 
assembled and waiting for them. If any Indian had 



THE SEVENTH OF MAY 



77 



doubted the discovery of their plot, he was certain of it 
when he saw that the officers wore swords at their sides 
and pistols in their belts. It was with some reluctance 
that they seated themselves on the mats arranged for 
them. 

This was a trying moment for Pontiac. He stood 
there discovered, defeated. But he did not quail before 
the steady gaze of the English. His brow was only more 
haughty, his face more stern. 

"And why," he asked, in a severe, harsh voice, "do 
our brothers meet us to-day with guns in their hands ? " 

"You come among us when we are taking our regu- 
lar military exercise," answered the commander calmly. 

With fears somewhat soothed, Pontiac began to speak : 
" For many moons the love of our brothers, the English, 
has seemed to sleep. It is now spring; the sun shines 
bright and hot ; the bears, the oaks, the rivers awake from 
their sleep. Brothers, it is time for the friendship be- 
tween us to awake. Our chiefs have come to do their 
part, to renew their pledges of peace and friendship." 

Here he made a movement with the belt he held in his 
hand, as if about to turn it over. Every Indian was ready 
to spring. Gladwin gave a signal. A clash of arms 
sounded through the open door. A drum began beating - 
a charge. Within the council room there was a startled, 
breathless silence. Pontiac' s hand was stayed. The belt 
fell back to its first position. The din of arms ceased. 
Pontiac repeated his promises of friendship and loyalty, 
and then sat down. 



78 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



Major Gladwin answered briefly : " Brothers, the 
English are not fickle. They do not withdraw their 

friendship without 
cause. As long as 
the "red men are 
faithful to their 
promises they will 
find the English their 
steadfast friends. 
But if the Indians 
are false or do any 
injury to the Eng- 
lish, the English will 
punish them without 
mercy." 

The one object of 
the Indians was now 
to turn aside the sus- 
picion of the Eng- 
lish. After Glad- 
win's speech presents 
were exchanged, and 

PONTIAC'S SPEECH ^ u i 

the meeting broke up 
with a general hand-shaking. Before leaving, Pon- 
tiac promised that he would return in a few days with 
his squaws and children that they might shake hands 
with their English brothers. 

"Scoundrels !" laughed one officer, when the last In- 
dian had left. "They were afraid to sit down. They 




HOSTILITIES BEGUN jg 

thought they had been caught in their own trap. It's a 
pity to let them off so easily." 

"No," replied another, more seriously. 'The Major 
is right. If there is an outbreak, the Indians must take 
the first step. They depend more on treachery than force 
for success; now that their plan is foiled, the whole 
trouble will probably blow over." 

The next day this opinion seemed verified by the 
appearance of Pontiac with three of his chiefs. He 
brought a peace-pipe and approached the commander 
with smooth speeches: "Evil birds have whistled in 
your ears, but do not listen to them. We are your 
friends. We have come to prove it. We will smoke 
the calumet with you." 

Pontiac then offered his great peace-pipe. After it 
had been smoked in all solemnity, he presented it to 
Captain Campbell as a high mark of friendship. 



VII. HOSTILITIES BEGUN 

Bright and early the next morning hordes of naked 
savages gathered on the pasture land near the fort. A 
long quadrangle was marked out on the grass with lines 
across it. At each end of this "gridiron" two tall posts 
were erected five or six feet apart. This, as you may 
have guessed, was to prepare for an Indian game of 
ball. 

When all was ready the young men of the Ottawa 



8o 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



tribes took their places on one side of the field. Oppo- 
site to them were the Pottawottomies. Each Indian 
had a long racket or bat with which he tried to drive 
the ball to the goal against the opposition of the players 
of the other nation. Such a yelling as they kept up, 
running and pushing and plunging and prancing the 
while! Small wonder that squaws, warriors, and chiefs 
should have come to watch so exciting a game ! 




INDIANS PLAYING BALL 

Still the men in the fort kept the gates closed and 
stayed behind their walls, as if they took no interest 
in the game. They were really watching with some un- 
easiness the vast crowd of Indians so close at hand. 

When the game was finished Pontiac went to the 
gate of the fort. His chiefs attended him and a motley 



HOSTILITIES BEGUN 



81 



crowd of warriors, squaws, and children came trooping 
after. The great chief shouted in a loud voice, demand- 
ing admission. He received answer that he might come 
in if he wished, but the rest would have to keep out. 
With injured dignity he asked if his followers were not 
to be allowed to enjoy the smoke of the calumet. 

The English commander, tired of false speech, gave 
a short answer, refusing flatly to let the Indians in. 
Thereupon Pontiac's brow darkened and he strode off to 
the river in high dudgeon. 

The others withdrew a little and stood in groups, 
muttering and gesticulating. Then with wild whoops 
they bounded off to join their comrades who lay stretched 
on the earth around the ball grounds. After a brief 
parley, some started with blood-curdling yells toward a 
house across the fields where an English woman lived 
with her children; others leaped into their canoes and 
paddled off* to an island where an English farmer lived 
alone. 

Before sunset the men at the fort heard the exultant 
scalp yell of the Indians, and knew that the first blood 
of the war had been shed. 

In the meantime Pontiac hastened with gloomy rage 
to his own village across the river. It was deserted 
by all but a few squaws and old men. These Pontiac 
ordered to pack the camp luggage and make all ready 
for removal, as soon as the men came with their canoes 
to carry the camp equipment to the Detroit side of the 
river. 

Four Ind. — 6 



82 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



All labored to do their chiefs will, while he went 
apart and blackened his face. 

At nightfall the braves came in with the scalps they 
had taken. A pole was driven into the ground in the 
open space where the tents had been. The warriors 
gathered about it, their bodies decked with paint and 
eagle feathers. 

Pontiac sprang into their midst, brandishing his 
hatchet and striking violently at the pole. As he danced 
about, he recited the great deeds he and his fathers had 
done in war. His appalling cries, his terrible words, 
stirred the hearts of his Indians and fired their blood. 
All were in a frenzy of excitement. With wild cries they 
joined their chief in his war dance. 

Even the faint echo of the din these blood-thirsty 
demons made struck terror into the hearts of the watch- 
ers in Detroit. The soldiers kept close guard all night, 
expecting an attack at any moment. 

But not till early dawn did the war cry sound. Shrill 
and near it rose from hundreds of throats. Strong men 
turned pale at the clamor of yells and cracking rifles. It 
seemed that the Indians must be at the very walls of 
the fort. 

The guards on the ramparts, however, could see no 
enemy in the faint gray light. From behind every tree, 
every stone, every rise of ground, came the incessant 
flash of muskets. Bullets and blazing arrows rattled 
against the palisades. The Indians aimed at the loop- 
holes and succeeded in wounding five of the English. 



HOSTILITIES BEGUN 



83 



The soldiers returned a cautious fire, unwilling to waste 
powder on an invisible foe. 

After an attack of six hours' duration the Indians, 
weary with their night's activity, gradually withdrew 
to their camps, having suffered no loss, but at the same 
time having inflicted little. 

Gladwin, whose spirit was manly and humane, wished 
if possible to avoid further bloodshed. The Canadians 
took no part in the war, and could, therefore, be safely 
used as messengers. As soon as the battle had subsided 
Major Gladwin sent a deputation of them to tell Pontiac 
that he was willing to listen to any real grievance of the 
Indians, and do his best to redress whatever wrongs they 
had suffered. 

Pontiac knew that his chief charge of injustice against 
the English, their presence in and claim to his lands, 
would not be considered by the English a real grievance. 
He thought the hour for talking had passed ; the time for 
action had come. Treachery was his readiest weapon 
and he used it. He replied that he could consent to no . 
terms unless they were made with the English in person, ' 
and asked that Captain Campbell, second in command at 
the fort, come to a council in his camp. 

Captain Campbell had no fear, and urged Major 
Gladwin to permit him to go. He and another Eng- 
lishman, accordingly, hastened to the Indian village. 
The women and the warriors were so enraged at the sight 
of their red coats, that they would have stoned them 
had not Pontiac interfered and led them to his lodge. 



8 4 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



After a long but fruitless talk around the council 
fire, the English rose to go. But Pontiac said : ''Broth- 
ers, you will sleep to-night on the couches the red men 
have spread for you." He then gave orders that his 
prisoners should be taken to the house of a Canadian, 
where they should be treated with respect, but closely 
guarded. 



VIII. THE TWO LEADERS 

When the officers at Detroit learned that their depu- 
ties were detained by the Indians, they realized that there 
was no hope of peace. Before the fort two armed 
schooners rode at anchor. Most of the officers wished 
to abandon the fort and seek safety by sailing away on 
these boats. 

"There is no use trying to hold the old fort against 
eight times our number," they said impatiently. 

But Major Gladwin had no thought of surrender. 
"We could not," he answered, "if the Indians should 
attempt to force the walls. But there is no danger of 
their venturing within gunshot in any numbers. They 
won't risk their red skins that way. They'll simply 
waste their powder and lead in such firing as they did 
this morning, and pretty soon they'll lose heart and 
drop off, leaving Pontiac to beg for peace." 

"I don't suppose they will unite in a charge," as- 
sented one of the officers. "But they will keep a sharp 
lookout day and night to do us injury. We have four 



THE TWO LEADERS 



85 



walls to guard and only one hundred and twenty men 
to do it. The garrison will be exhausted in no time." 

"Yes, we have hard work before us," agreed the 
commander, "but we can do it. Our case is not so bad 
as you represent. The ship's guns protect two walls, 
so that virtually only two sides of the fort are ex- 
posed to the enemy. To me the most alarming feature of 
the siege is short rations." 

"The supplies are low and we cannot hope for more 
within three weeks. We'll starve to death, penned up 
here with no hunting and no provisions from the Cana- 
dian farmers," complained some, ready in their alarm 
to magnify every danger. 

"By taking care to prevent waste we can make the 
supplies last," the commander interrupted. "I shall 
buy up at once everything in the fort that can serve as 
food, put it into a common storehouse, and give to each 
person a daily allowance. If even with this care the 
food runs short, Canadians may be found who love gold 
better than Indians." In this way the courageous leader 
argued, until, at last, he overcame the fears of his aids 
and roused in them a spirit of resistance. 

Pontiac had no lack of warriors, nevertheless he, as 
well as the British leader, had his fears and difficulties. 

His own followers were not easily managed. He 
had brought them together from near and far with prom- 
ise of easy victory over the English. After a short 
struggle many of the tribes lost heart and were ready 
to go back to their villages. 



86 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



The Canadians were neutral and were supposed to 
sympathize with the Indians; but Pontiac knew that 
many of them favored the English, and were ready at 
the slightest offense to take the side of his enemies. 

His campaign against the English had begun with 
failure. Treachery had failed. He had put the Eng- 
lish on their guard and must now use open force. 

To hold a horde of 
savages together, to 
keep the fickle Cana- 
dians friendly, to take 
without cannon all the 
fortifications on the 
frontier, were the tasks 
the Indian general had 
set himself. 

Pontiac's personal in- 
fluence over the Indians 
was unparalleled. He 
had lost none of his 
. power over them by the 
defeat of his plan to 
take Detroit. No In- 
dian dared reproach him 
with failure. All quailed- 
before his terrible rage 
and disappointment. They brought him the scalps of the 
English they had slain. They sought to please him with 
loud outcries against the English, and promises of the 




PONTIAC'S ELOQUENCE 



THE TWO LEADERS 



87 



bloody work they would do. He held all in awe of him. 
He commanded as if sure of being obeyed, and punished 
the slightest disobedience with extreme severity. 

But he did not govern by fear alone. He took care 
that his warriors should not want for food ; he took 
care to give them grounds for hope and to keep them 
busy. 

No preparations had been made for a long siege. 
When provisions failed and the tribes were on the point 
of leaving, Pontiac had a conference with some Cana- 
dians and arranged that they should furnish his people 
with corn and meat. He had no money to pay for pro- 
visions, but he made out notes promising to pay for 
them at some future time. These notes were written 
on birch bark, and signed with the figure of an otter, 
the totem of the great chief. Many of the farmers feared 
they would never see the money promised them in these 
notes, but Pontiac paid them all faithfully. 

Pontiac knew how wasteful his people were, feasting 
in the day of plenty without thought of the morrow. 
He therefore employed a Canadian as his provision offi- 
cer. This man had charge of the storehouse, and doled 
out each morning the provisions for the day. 

This novel arrangement increased the Indians' con- 
fidence in their leader. Yet some grew restless and 
were on the point of giving up the struggle as a failure. 

On learning this, Pontiac sent out messengers to 
the Wyandot Indians, ordering them to join him in his 
war against the British or prepare to be wiped off the 



88 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



face of the earth. By this stroke Pontiac turned threat- 
ened loss into gain. The support of the warlike Wyan- 
dots renewed the courage of the faint-hearted, and for 
a time all thought of failure ceased. 

The chiefs conduct toward the Canadians was highly 
praiseworthy. They had encouraged him to make war 
against the British by promising that the French king 
would send him help. Week after week passed and no 
help came. Pontiac's expectation of the arrival of a 
French army grew fainter and fainter. Still he did not 
lose faith in the truth of the Canadians. He protected 
them and their property from injury and theft; for there 
were many lawless young warriors who were ready to do 
violence to the French as well as to the English. 

While pretending to sympathize with the Indians, 
many of the French farmers were secretly helping the 
English by selling them food and reporting the move- 
ments of the Indians. Pontiac heard many reports of 
their faithlessness. 

One stormy evening the chief entered the cabin of 
a Frenchman whom he had known for many years. 
With only a nod for his host he sat down before the 
dying fire. He sat there wrapt in his blanket for a long 
time without a word. At last he faced the Frenchman 
and said: "Old friend, I hear that the English have 
offered to give you a bushel of silver if you will take 
them my scalp." 

"It is false," cried the Frenchman in alarm. "I 
would not injure my friend for many bushels of silver." 



THE SIEGE OF DETROIT 



8 9 



"Pontiac has no fear. Pontiac trusts his brother," 
the Indian replied, and stretching himself upon a bench 
he was soon sound asleep. The Frenchman could not 
be false to such faith and the chief slept unharmed. 

While successfully keeping together his warriors 
and strengthening the bond of friendship between the 
French and the Indians, Pontiac was carrying on the 
war against the English with vigor. His camp near De- 
troit was the center of action. From it Pontiac directed 
the war and kept constant watch over the garrison. He 
prevented the besieged from leaving their walls; he sent 
out parties to waylay the supplies the British were ex- 
pecting from the East; he planned and managed expedi- 
tions against other forts held by the British. 



IX. THE SIEGE OF DETROIT 

The English at Detroit soon became accustomed to 
the discomforts and alarms of the siege. The women 
no longer trembled when the Indian war whoop sounded. 
The men no longer ran to the walls at the popping of 
muskets. The smell of gunpowder, the whiz of bullets, 
had lost their power to quicken the pulse. 

The days dragged slowly on. A few wan-faced 
men worked, many lounged in the narrow streets, play- 
ing games of chance, betting on the outcome of the 
war, quarreling, complaining, boasting. Now they 
talked vauntingly, telling tales of the Englishman's prow- 



9 o 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



ess and the Indian's cowardice. Again, they told dis- 
mal stories of Indian cruelty and massacre, and shook 
their heads over their own prospects. 

But every idler had his firelock close at hand, and 
all the time the sentinels on the bastions kept a sharp 
lookout. Every little while rapid firing broke the mo- 
notony of the long watch; the rolling drum called the 
garrison to the ramparts; wounded men groaned under 
the rough kindness of the fort surgeon ; the dead received 
the soldiers' burial. But over all the old flag with its 
red cross, stained with rain and smoke, flapped defi- 
antly. 

Major Gladwin went about with a cheerful face, but 
a heavy heart. Provisions were fast melting away. It 
seemed scarcely possible that the garrison would be able 
to hold out till the expected supplies arrived. He de- 
cided to send one of the schooners to meet the provision 
boats, to warn them of the hostility of the Indians and 
urge them to all speed. 

They could ill spare any of the garrison, but food 
must be had. So, on a bright spring morning one of 
the vessels weighed anchor and started for the East. 
Before she left the Detroit River the wind died and 
her sails hung limp. 

. As the boat lay helplessly drifting with the current 
a hundred canoes darted out from the shore. In the 
foremost one the Indians had bound their prisoner, Cap- 
tain Campbell. The British saw, and were afraid to 
fire lest they should shoot their countryman. Noticing 



THE SIEGE OF DETROIT 



91 



their hesitation, the brave old man called out: "Don't 
think of me. Do your duty and fire." The man at the 
cannon still paused. A breeze stirred, swelled the canvas, 
and the schooner flew like a great gull over the blue wat- 
ers far out of reach of the canoes. 

After the boat left, a gloom settled upon the little 
garrison at Detroit. With two boats in the - harbor 
flight had seemed possible. Now that one of them had 
gone, all felt that the siege meant victory or death. The 
daily allowance of food grew smaller. The men became 
exhausted with ceaseless watching. All hope was 
fixed on the expected reinforcements. 

On the thirteenth of May the sentinel announced that 
the long looked for convoy was in sight. The good 
news spread rapidly. Soon the entire population of the 
village was hurrying to the gate that led to the river. 

The hungry, haggard-looking men that croAvded the 
wharf sent up cheer after cheer as the boats approached 
with flags flying. Days of rest and plenty seemed theirs 
again. Here were comrades to share their vigils. Here 
was food to satisfy their hunger. 

As the boats drew nearer, the cheers died in throats 
hoarse with horror. No answering shout came from the 
boats. The English at the oars were not their own 
masters. The long expected supplies had fallen into the 
hands of the Indians. The men to whom the garrison 
had looked for help were the prisoners of the enemy. 

Two Englishmen escaped from their guards and 
succeeded in reaching the fort where they told their story : 



92 



THE STORY OF POXTIAC 



.Ninety men had started with large stores of food and 
ammunition, early in the spring to reinforce Detroit. 
Meeting the schooner from the fort and learning the 
danger and need of the garrison, they had pushed on with 
all possible speed until they reached the mouth of the De- 
troit River. That night, as the boats were drawn up on 
the shore and the men were getting supper, their camp was 
suddenly surprised by a horde of Wyandot Indians. The 
British made an attempt to defend themselves. But the 
Indians were upon them brandishing their tomahawks and 
yelling like demons. Panic fear seized the white men. 
They dropped their guns, fled to the boats., jumped in 
and pushed off. The exultant Indians pressed after them 
and succeeded in retaking all but two of their overloaded 
boats. The savages were now taking their prisoners, 
about sixty in number, to the camp of Pontiac, where 
they would be tortured and put to death. 

The success of this bold venture probably would have 
ended the siege of Detroit with victory for Pontiac, had 
the Canadians been as loyal to the Indians as they pre- 
tended. But while they were giving the chief assur- 
ances of good will and future help, some of them were 
secretly succoring the English. Under the cover of night 
they smuggled cattle and sheep and hogs to the famish- 
ing garrison. 

Even with this aid the prospects of the little garri- 
son were dark enough. Every wind seemed to blow 
them ill news. 

One afternoon the guard at the fort heard a weird 



THE SIEGE OF DETROIT 



93 



chant and saw issuing from the distant forest a file of 
warriors whose naked bodies were smeared with black 
paint. Every one of them carried a pole over his shoul- 
der, and the horrified watchers knew well enough that 
from the end of each pole fluttered the scalp of some 
Eno-fishman. Thev learned from the Canadians that 
night that Fort Sandusky had been burned and its garri- 
son murdered. 

A little later the Indians offered to exchange some 
prisoners with the English. The victims thus released 
by the Indians proved to be from Fort St. Joseph. They 
told how that fort had been treacherously taken and 
burned, and all the inmates but themselves slain. 

A traveling priest brought word that the plot which 
had failed at Detroit had succeeded only too well at 
Michillimackinac. Next came tidings of the massacres 
at Fort Ouatanon on the Wabash River and at Fort 
Miamis, on the Maumee. 

Nor was the tale of fire and blood yet ended. A 
fugitive from the camp of Pontiac reached Detroit one 
afternoon. It proved to be Ensign Christie, the com- 
manding officer at Presqu 5 Isle, near the eastern end of 
Lake Erie. His story was a thrilling one. He told how 
his little garrison of twenty-seven men had fortified them- 
selves in their block house and made a fierce struggle to 
keep back the Indians and save their stronghold from 
the flames; how at last the Indians had undermined 
their fort and threatened to apply the torch above and 
below at once. Then to escape death by fire the little 



94 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



band had listened to the promises of the Indians and 
yielded themselves prisoners. 

If these reports terrified the English at Detroit, they 
also strengthened their determination not to surrender. 
In spite of fatigue, hunger, and discouragement they 
fought stoutly on, until, at length, there came a turn 
in the tide of ill fortune that had surged against them. 

On the nineteenth of June news reached them that 
the schooner which had been sent to meet the provisions 
had returned and was entering the Detroit River. This 
cheered all, for they knew that the boat had been to 
Niagara for more supplies and more men. Still, they 
remembered the fate of the provision boats, and were 
worried lest mischance should befall the schooner. 

Their anxiety increased when they saw the Indians 
going in large companies down the river and heard 
from the Canadians that they were planning to attack 
the schooner. The British at the fort fired two cannon 
shots to let their countrymen know that they still held 
Detroit. But several days passed before they heard 
anything of the boat. At last they saw her sailing safely 
toward them. 

There were waving caps, shouts of joy, and prayers 
of thanksgiving among the little company of half-starved 
men who thronged at the gate to welcome the new- 
comers. 

They had heard that eight hundred more Ojibwa 
Indians were on their way to increase the forces of 
Pontiac. But what were eight hundred O jib was to 



IMPORTANT ENGAGEMENTS 95 

sixty hardy sons of England and a schooner loaded with 
supplies and cannon! 



X. IMPORTANT ENGAGEMENTS 

Hope grew strong in Pontiac's heart as week after 
week his tribes and allies brought to his camp trophies 
of victory — guns, prisoners, scalps. But Detroit trou- 
bled him. The most violent attacks produced no ef- 
fect. To starve the garrison seemed the only way to 
conquer it. 

When, therefore, Pontiac's messengers had brought 
word that the schooner was approaching he bent his 
whole energy to prevent her reaching Detroir. Along the 
river where dense underwoods grew, hundreds of Indians 
lay concealed with their canoes, waiting for the schooner. 

When, in the darkness of a moonless night, they saw 
the great boat sailing steadily up the narrow channel they 
paddled silently toward her, dark specks on the breast 
of the dark, shining river. Nearer and nearer they 
pressed. All was silent on the vessel. Surely no one 
had taken alarm. Not a shot and they had reached the 
boat; they were clambering like rats up its bulky sides — 
when lo ! a sharp hammering on the mast head, a flash 
of muskets in the dark, a cry of defeat and rage above 
the din of battle ! Cannon boomed ; canoes flew high into 
the air ; bullets did their work. 

For fourteen Indians the long struggle against 
the palefaces was over. The rest scurried to the shore 



9 6 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



as best they could, some paddling, some swimming. 
Once there, they took shelter behind some temporary 
earthworks, and opened such a fierce fire on the schooner 
that it was forced to drop down stream to a broader 
part of the river. For several days they delayed the 
ship, but at length she sailed boldly past, and was but 
little injured by the fire. 

Pontiac was sorely vexed that the ship had suc- 
ceeded in reaching the garrison. He and his people 
looked upon the boats with almost superstitious hor- 
ror. Their dislike was not lessened when one day the 
smaller schooner made her way against wind and cur- 
rent up to Pontiac' s village, and there sent shot and 
shell roaring through the frail dwellings. 

Though no loss of life resulted, the Indians were 
greatly alarmed. Pontiac moved his camp to a safer 
place and then turned his attention to destroying the 
ships. Early in July he made his first attempt. 

Two large boats filled with birch bark and pitch 
pine were tied together and set on fire. They were then 
cut loose and left to float down stream. Keenly the 
Indians watched; keenly, the English. Would the fire- 
boats go close enough? the first wondered with bated 
breath. Would they come too close? questioned the 
British. Woe on the one hand, joy on the other! the 
space between the ships and the flaming craft widens — 
the fireboats float harmlessly down the river. A second 
and a third attempt to burn the boats failed. Fortune 
seemed to favor the English. 



IMPORTANT ENGAGEMENTS 



97 



Pontiac began to despair of taking Detroit unaided. 
He called a council of the French. He reminded 
them that the English were their enemies as well as 
his. He charged them with helping the English and 
told them that the time had come for them to choose 
sides and right with him or against him. He then of- 
fered them the war belt. His hope was that they would 
take it up and join him against the English. 

Now, the Canadians had become by the terms of the 
treaty that closed the French war, British subjects, 
but they were ashamed or afraid to admit it, and still 
deceived the Indians. They told Pontiac that much 
as it would please them to fight with him against the 
English, they must obey the commands of their father, 
the King of France, who had bidden them to remain 
at peace until his coming. They added that he, with 
a great army, was already on the St. Lawrence and 
would soon arrive to punish the enemies of his children 
and reward their friends. They advised the chieftain 
not to make an enemy of his mighty friend. 

When the French speaker had finished, there was a 
short silence. Then an old trapper came forward, and, 
picking up the war belt, declared that he was ready 
to take sides with the Indians against the English. Sev- 
eral of his rough comrades followed his example. 

Pontiac's hope of gaining aid from the French was 
thus not utterly defeated. Besides, he still believed 
their talk about the coming of the French king. So 
the French and Indians continued friends. 

Four Ind. — 7 



9 8 



THE STORY OF POXTIAC 



Some of the tribes growing restless, now made peace 
with the English and deserted Pontiac. But a greater 
blow than the desertion of a few tribes was in store for 
the chief. 

Late in July he learned that twenty-two barges bear- 
ing large supplies of food and ammunition and almost 
three hundred men had made their way up the Detroit 
River in safety, protected by a dense fog. The news 
came so late that it was impossible for the Indians to 
oppose the progress of the boats, and they reached the 
fort with little resistance. 

At about two o'clock in the morning of the second 
day after the arrival of this convoy, Pontiac's spies 
brought him word that the English were coming against 
his camp with a great force. 

Swiftly and silently the Ottawas broke their camp, 
and with some Ojibwas started to meet the British. On 
reaching the site of their former camp, about a mile and 
a half above the fort, near the bridge that crossed a little 
stream, called from that night Bloody Run, they formed 
an ambush and waited for the British. 

They had barely time to hide behind their old earth- 
works, natural ridges and piles of brush. Already they 
heard the barking of watchdogs at the farmhouses along 
the river road, and the tramp of many feet. They lis- 
tened and discovered that the enemy outnumbered them. 
What of that! The night was dark. They knew their 
ground. Their scouts would soon bring other tribes to 
help them. 



IMPORTANT ENGAGEMENTS 



99 



Every Indian was out of sight; every gun was loaded. 
The tramp of feet drew nearer. A dark mass of march- 
ing men came in sight. The quick steps of the advanced 
guard rang on the wooden bridge. All else was still. 
The vanguard had crossed the bridge and the main body 
of the English had started over, when, in front, to right, 
to left, burst blood curdling yells, blazed a fatal volley of 
muskets. 

Back only, lay safety. Those who had not fallen in 
the first charge turned and fled, followed by a rain of 
bullets. Panic spread along the line. But the brave 
leader of the English, Captain Dalzel, sprang to the front 
and rallied his men. They made a bold charge, as they 
thought, into the midst of the enemy ; but they found none 
to resist them. Every Indian had vanished. They 
pressed bravely on in search of their assailants : but the 
night was black and the way was rough and unfamiliar. 
Whenever they reached a place of difficulty the Indians 
unexpectedly renewed their attack. 

The savages, whose eyes were accustomed to the dark- 
ness, saw the enemy after a parley return to the bridge. 
There, half of the men mounted guard while the others 
took up the dead and wounded and carried them to two 
armed boats that had accompanied them down the 
river. 

Seeing that a return to the fort was intended, the In- 
dians turned back in large numbers to form another am- 
buscade at a point where several houses and barns stood 
near the road and cut the English off from the fort. 



LofC. 



IOO 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



They again allowed the vanguard to pass unmolested 
and surprised the center with a galling fire. The sol- 
diers, confused by the weird and terrible cries of the sav- 
ages and the blaze of musketry, blinded by smoke and 
flash, and stung by pelting bullets, huddled together like 
sheep. 

Captain Dalzel, though severely wounded, by com- 
manding, imploring, fairly driving his men with his 
sword, at last succeeded in regaining order. He made a 
charge and as usual the Indians fled before the attack. 
As soon as the English attempted to continue their re- 
treat the Indians were upon them again, firing from every 
fence and thicket. 

The gallant Dalzel was among those shot down by 
this fire. He died trying to save a wounded soldier from 
the scalping knife of the Indians. In the confusion he 
was scarcely missed. The officers next in command 
took charge of the retreat. In the gray dawn the rem- 
nant of Dalzel' s army reached the fort. The Indians went 
off, well satisfied with their night's work, to count their 
scalps and celebrate. 

While the English lost about sixty men in this en- 
gagement, called the battle of Bloody Ridge, the number 
of Indians killed and wounded was not greater than fifteen 
or twenty. The Indians considered it a great victory and 
fresh warriors flocked to the camp of the Indian comman- 
der who seemed to be a match for the English. 



THE END OF THE SIEGE 



IOI 



XI. THE END OF THE SIEGE 

We have seen that after the battle of Bloody Ridge 
many tribes that had before been afraid to take up the 
hatchet against the English, presented themselves at the 
camp of Pontiac, eager for a share in the victory at 
Detroit, which they thought would follow. 

Yet that English stronghold, that log palisade, was 
a prize out of reach of the chief and his warriors. The 
Indians kept close watch. If a head appeared at a loop- 
hole, bang went an Indian's gun. If a point was left 
unguarded, there was the torch applied. Fire arrows 
whizzed over the rampart in the darkness, only to burn 
themselves out in the broad roadway between the wall 
and the buildings. Again and again hundreds of painted 
warriors danced about the fort yelling as if Detroit, like 
Jericho, might be taken with shouting. Their spent bul- 
lets pelted the old fort like harmless hail. They tried to 
rush upon the gate, but the fusilade from the block house 
and the fire-belching cannon of the British drove them 
back helter-skelter. 

Late in September an incident occurred which in- 
creased the Indians' awe of the British. A scout brought 
word to Pontiac that a dispatch boat with a large store of 
provisions was on her way to the fort. As there were 
only twelve men aboard, her capture seemed an easy mat- 
ter. 

The Indians planned a midnight attack. Three hun- 
dred of them drifted down the river in their light birch 



102 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



canoes. The night was so dark and they came so noise- 
lessly that the watching English did not know of their 
approach until they were within gunshot of the boat. 

A cannon was fired, but its shot and shell went over 
the heads of the Indians and plowed up the black water 
beyond. The canoes were all about the ship and the sav- 
ages, with knives in their teeth, were climbing up its 
sides. The crew fired once. One or two Indians fell 
back into the water ; the rest came on. As they climbed 
nearer, the British charged them with bayonets, and 
hacked them with hatchets and knives. But where one 
man was driven back a dozen gained the deck. 

The little crew defended themselves desperately; they 
were surrounded by brandished tomahawks ; their captain 
had fallen; more than half their number were cut down. 
The Indians were raising their shout of triumph. Then 
the order of Jacobs, the mate, rang out: "Blow up the 
ship!" he said. One Indian understood and gave the 
alarm to his fellows. With one accord they threw down 
hatchets and knives and leaped into the river. They made 
haste to reach the shore and left six bloodstained British 
sailors to take their boat in triumph to Detroit. 

As autumn advanced the Indians grew weary of the 
long siege. The prospect of winter with no food, the 
continued resistance of the British, and the report that a 
large force of armed men was coming to relieve Detroit, 
discouraged them. 

One tribe after another sent delegations to Major 
Gladwin to sue for peace. They told smooth stories. 



THE END OF THE SIEGE 



103 



They had always loved the English, but Pontiac had com- 
pelled them to go to war. Now they were sorry they 
had obeyed him and longed to be at peace with their Eng- 
lish brothers. 

. Gladwin understood their deceit, but as he was in need 
of winter supplies, readily granted them a truce. The 
various tribes broke up their camps and separated for 
the long winter hunt. 

Pontiac and his Ottawas still held their ground with- 
out flinching. "Surely," thought the proud-hearted 
chief, "our French father will send us help before long." 

One day, near the close of October, a messenger did 
come from the French. The letter he brought was from 
M. Neyon, the commandant of Fort Chartres, in the 
Illinois country. Pontiac had written to him asking for 
aid. What had he answered? Fie had told the truth. 
He had told Pontiac that the French in America were 
now the subjects of the English king, and so could not 
fight against his people. 

When the great chief heard this he did not put on 
his war paint and lead his warriors against the defense- 
less French who had so long dealt falsely with him. He 
sat alone for a long time, thinking. The next day he 
sent a letter to Major Gladwin saying that he was now 
ready to bury the hatchet, and begging the English to 
forget the past. 

Major Gladwin thought that the French were more 
to blame than the Indians in the war, and was willing to 
be at peace with his red neighbors. So he sent Pontiac a 



104 THE STORY OF PONTIAC 

favorable reply. A few clays later the stern-faced chief 
turned his back on Detroit, and began his march to the 
Maumee River, followed by his faithful braves. 



XII. ALL ALONG THE FRONTIER 

The plan of Pontiac had been to take the forts all 
along the frontier by strategy and then destroy the de- 
fenceless English settlements. 

We have seen that while there were many French 
farmers living outside of the walls of Detroit there were 
very few English. And, in truth, in 1763, there were not 
many English settlers east of the Alleghany Mountains. 
Most of .the forts that had been taken from the French, 
except those on the Mississippi River, were garrisoned 
with English. Within reach of the protection of these 
forts, lived some British traders and trappers, and a few 
venturesome settlers. But the Mohawk Valley in New 
York, and the Susquehanna, in Pennsylvania, really 
formed the western limit of extensive English settle- 
ment. 

Pontiac's war belts had stirred up the Indians all along 
the border. In the summer of 1763, while he and the 
Ottawas and O jib was were besieging Detroit, the Dela- 
wares and Shawnees were laying waste the Pennsylvania 
frontier. 

Backwoodsmen, trappers or travelers, venturing into 
the wilderness were shot down without warning. Men, 



ALL ALONG THE FRONTIER 



women, and children were miserably slain. Isolated 
farmhouses were attacked, their inmates scalped, the 
cabins burned. Churches and schools added to the blaze 
that swept the wilderness from the Great Lakes to the 
Ohio. One after another the smaller forts were taken 
by the Indians. 

Panic seized the settlers. Women left the kettle on 
the hearth, men the plow in the furrow, and fled. Some 
crowded for refuge into the nearest fort. Others feared 
to stop until they had reached Lancaster or even Phila- 
delphia. 

The terrible butcheries committed by the Indians so 
maddened the frontiersmen that they forgot their civiliza- 
tion and resorted to methods as inhuman as did the In- 
dians. Peaceable, friendly Indians were massacred by 
bands of ruffian borderers, organized for vengeance as 
well as protection. Even men in high places forgot their 
usual humanity. The commander-in-chief of the army, 
Sir Jeffrey Amherst, and Colonel Henry Bouquet planned 
to send smallpox among the Indians by giving them in- 
fected blankets. They even talked of fighting them with 
bloodhounds instead of soldiers. The Governor of Penn- 
sylvania issued a proclamation offering a reward for 
Indian prisoners and Indian scalps. 

Fort Pitt, one of the most important posts on the 
frontier, held out against the attacks of the Delawares 
and the Shawnees. When the commander-in-chief of 
the army learned of the distress of the fort he sent a 
strong force under Colonel Bouquet to relieve it. 



io6 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



In August, when crossing the Alleghany Mountains, 
Bouquet's army was assailed by a horde of Indians that 
had been lying in wait for them at Bushy Run. The bat- 
tle which followed was hot. The British were coura- 
geous, but they fell in large numbers under the fire of the 
Indians, who fled before every charge, only to return like 
infuriated wasps at the moment the English fancied they 
had repulsed them. Night brought relief from the gall- 
ing fire. But the battle was not over. 

The English were held penned up on the road without 
water till dawn, when' the charge was renewed with such 
zest that for a time it looked as if there were no escape 

for the forces of Bouquet. 
The unusual boldness of 
the Indians suggested 
to him a strata- 




gem. 



He feigned a 



retreat. 



Thus 



ji encouraged the 
Indians rushed 
upon the British 
with war whoop 
~ and scalp cry. 
The forces of 
Bouquet divided ; the Indians filled the breach. Then at 
the word of command the troops closed on them, charg- 
ing with bayonets. Many of the" Indians entrapped in 
this way fell ; the rest fled. 



REDOUBT AT FORT PITT 



ALL ALONG THE FRONTIER 



After that the English made their way to Fort Pitt 
without serious interruption. In the battle of Bushy 
Run the loss on both sides was heavy for an Indian bat- 
tle. The English lost eight officers and over one hundred 
soldiers ; the Indians, several chiefs and about sixty war- 
riors. Though the English loss was greater than that 
of the Indians, it could be more easily made up. For 
that reason, and because the English had succeeded in 
reaching Fort Pitt, the expedition was regarded as a 
splendid victory for the palefaces. 

As winter advanced the Indians were obliged to de- 
sist from war and go into the forest in small companies 
to hunt. During the winter that followed the rebellion, 
the Indians had no help from the white people, and the 
bitter hardships they suffered did much to put them into a 
pacific frame of mind. 

Sir William Johnson, the king's sole agent and 
superintendent of Indian affairs, understood the red 
men better than most of his countrymen did. He lived 
among them on a great estate in the Mohawk Valley. 
He spoke their language and often dressed in Indian suit 
of slashed deerskin. 

In his opinion it was wasteful and unwise to fight 
with the Indians. He said the English were largely to 
blame for the Indian war because of their injustice and 
their want of policy in dealing with the savages. He 
advocated following the example of the French, and win- 
ning the good will of the Indians by flattery and pres- 
ents. He believed that under that policy the Indians 



io8 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



would become so dependent on the white man that they 
could be easily subdued. 

Early in the spring of 1764 he sent messages to 
the various tribes, warning them that two great armies 
of English soldiers were ready to start into the western 
forest to punish the enemies of the English, and inviting 
all who wished to make peace to meet him at Niagara. 

Accordingly, early in the spring, the fields around 
the fort at Niagara were dotted with Indian encamp- 
ments. Among the savages were friendly Indians who 
had come to claim their reward; enemies who, through 
want or fear, were ready to make a temporary peace, and 
spies, who wanted to see what was going on. 

For many a long day Sir William Johnson sat in the 
council room at the fort making treaties with various 
tribes. All day the fumes of the peace-pipe filled the 
hall, and threats and promises were made, and sealed 
with long strings of wampum. 

It would have taken much less time to make one 
treaty with all the Indians, but Sir William Johnson 
sought to discourage the idea of a common cause, which 
Pontiac had done so much to arouse among the Indians. 
He treated each tribe as if its case were quite different 
from that of every other tribe. 

Some Indians were so bold that they would not even 
pretend to be friendly. The Delawares and the Shaw- 
nees replied to the Indian agent's message summoning 
them to Niagara, that they were not afraid of the Eng- 
lish, but looked upon them as old women. 



ALL ALONG THE FRONTIER 



109 



The armies to which Sir William Johnson had re- 
ferred were under the command of Colonel Bouquet and 
Colonel Bradstreet. The latter went by way of the 
Lakes to relieve Detroit, offer peace to the northern In- 
dians, and subdue those who refused to submit. Bou- 
quet, with a thousand men, penetrated the forests further 
south to compel the fierce Delawares and Shawnees to 
submission. Both succeeded. 



Bradstreet found the northern Indians ready to come 
to terms. He has been criticised for requiring the In- 
dians to sign papers they did not understand and make 
promises that they did not fulfill. He did not see Pon- 
tiac, but sent a deputation to find him and confer with 
him. 






COUNCIL WITH COLONEL BOUQUET 



no 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



Colonel Bouquet, on the other hand, was stern and 
terrible. In council he addressed the Indians as chiefs 
and warriors, instead of " brothers." He refused to 
smooth over their wrong doing or listen to the excuses 
they offered for going to war. He charged them openly 
with the wrongs they had done, and required them to 
surrender all their white prisoners and give him hostages 
from their own race. 

Many of the captives had lived among the Indians 
so long that they had forgotten their white relatives and 
friends. They left the Indian life and Indian friends 
with tears, and would have remained in captivity gladly. 
But Colonel Bouquet would make no exceptions. 

His stern measures subdued the warlike tribes com- 
pletely. In the fall of 1764 Bouquet returned to the 
East to receive honors and rewards for his services. 



XIII. THE LAST OF PONTIAC 

While other Indians were promising to bury the 
hatchet, Pontiac, the soul of the conspiracy, made no 
promises and smoked no peace-pipe. Surrounded by 
hundreds of warriors the chief camped on the Maumee 
River. His messengers brought him news of what was 
going on, and until the white men had taken their sol- 
diers from the land he was content to wait and plan. 

Captain Morris, who had been sent to Pontiac's 
camp by Colonel Bradstreet, was coldly received by the 



THE LAST OF PONTIAC 



III 



great chief. Pontiac, indeed, granted him a hearing, 
but he bent upon his guest dark looks and refused to 
shake his hand. He made no flowery speeches, but de- 
clared that all the British were liars, and asked what 
new lies he had come to tell. After some talk Pontiac 
showed the captain a letter which he supposed to have 
been written by the King- of France. It told the old 
story of the French army on its way to destroy the Eng- 
lish. Captain Morris did his best to persuade him that 
the report was false. He was much impressed with the 
influence, knowledge, and sense of Pontiac — an Indian 
who commanded eighteen nations and was acquainted 
with the laws that regulated the conduct of civilized 
states. 

Pontiac would make no official promises of peace, but 
he was so much discouraged by the communications 
Captain Morris brought, that he said to one of the fol- 
lowers of the latter : "I shall never more lead the na- 
tions to war. As for them, let them be at peace with 
the English if they will; for me, I shall be at war with 
them forever. I shall be a wanderer in the woods, and 
if they come to seek me I will fight them single-handed." 
With much bitterness of soul did Pontiac learn that 
the forts he had taken with so much effort and loss of- 
Indian blood, had been retaken by the enemy; that the 
war spirit he had with so much labor aroused had been 
put to sleep. 

But his hopes were not easily dashed. There were 
the letters from the French. The English said they 



112 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



were false, but the English were his enemies. The 
French were his friends. Enemies might deceive each 
other, but friends must trust each other. 

His confidence in the French was encouraged by the 
fact that several of the forts in the Illinois country were 
still occupied by French garrisons. 

Pontiac resolved to make another effort to rouse his 
people. He set his squaws to work on a wampum war 
belt, broad and long, containing symbols of the forty- 
seven tribes which belonged to his confederacy. When the 
belt was done he sent a delegation of chiefs to the south 
with it. These messengers were instructed to show the 
war belt and offer the hatchet to all the tribes along the 
Mississippi River as far south as New Orleans. They 
were then to visit the French Governor at New Orleans 
and invite him to assist them in war against their com- 
mon enemy. 

Pontiac, in the meantime, went about among his 
old French friends asking for their help, and among 
the Illinois Indians urging them with threats and prom- 
ises to join him in making war against the English. He 
met with some success, but his dreams were rudely 
broken by the return of his chiefs with the news that the 
Governor of New Orleans had indeed yielded to the Brit- 
ish, and by the arrival of a company of British from 
Fort Pitt, offering terms of peace to the Illinois Indians. 
Daily Pontiac's allies deserted him, and accepted the 
terms of the English. 

Again the day had come when it seemed to Pontiac 



THE LAST OF PONTIAC 

wise to let his hatred of the English sleep. He sent his 
great peace-pipe to Sir William Johnson and promised 
to go to Oswego in the spring to conclude a treaty with 
him. 

True to his promise, in the spring of 1766, Pontiac, 
greatest war chief and sachem of the Ottawas, presented 
himself in the council chamber of Sir William Johnson. 
There was nothing fawning in his attitude ; he conducted 
himself with the dignity of a fallen monarch. "When 
you speak to me," he said, "it is as if you addressed all 
the nations of the west." In making peace he submitted 
not to the will of the British but to that of the Great 
Spirit, whose will it was that there should be peace. He 
made it clear that in allowing the English to take the 
forts of the French the Indians granted them no 
right to their lands. When he promised friendship for 
the future, he called his hearers to witness how true a 
friend he had been to the French, who had deceived 
him and given him reason to transfer his friendship. 

It would be hard to say how sincere Pontiac was, or 
how readily he would have let go the chain of friend- 
ship he had been forced to take up, had opportunity 
offered. He went back to his camp on the Maumee 
River, and there among his own people tried to live 
the life of his fathers. Little was heard of him for a 
year or two, but whenever an outbreak occurred among 
the Indians there were those who said Pontiac was at 
the bottom of it. 

In the spring of 1769, anxious to see his French 

Four Ind.— 8 



H4 



THE STORY OF PONTIAC 



friends once more, he made a visit to St. Louis. He 
was cordially received and spent several days with his 
old acquaintances. Then he crossed the river with a 
few chiefs to visit an assembly of traders and Illinois 
Indians. 

After feasting and drinking with some of the Illinois, 
Pontiac sought the quiet of the forest. He wandered 
through its dim aisles, living over again the hopes and 
ambitions of the past, which his visit with the French and 
the Illinois had vividly recalled. He had forgotten the 
present and was again the mighty warrior who had 
made the hearts of the palefaces quake with fear. Little 
he dreamed that behind him stood an assassin with up- 
raised tomahawk. - 

The murderer of the great chief was an Illinois In- 
dian who had been bribed to do the deed by an English 
trader. 

During his life Pontiac had tried to overcome the 
tribal feeling of the Indians, and to unite them as one 
people. Over his grave the old tribal instinct awoke. 
The Illinois rallied about their kinsman to protect him; 
the Ottawas flew to arms to avenge their chief — such 
a sachem, such a chief, could not be forgotten. Wrong 
to him could not be forgiven. The fury of the Ottawas 
was not slaked until they had avenged the death of their 
chief, through the destruction of the powerful tribes of 
the Illinois. 



THE STORY OF 

TEC UMSEH 

BY 

FRANCES M. PERRY 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



I. EARLY YEARS 

The great Indian leader, Pontiac, died in 1769, dis- 
appointed in his attempt to unite the Indians in a confed- 
eracy strong enough to withstand the white race. But 
the struggle between the red man and the white was not 
ended. 

At about the time of the old chiefs death a child 
was born among the Shawnee Indians who was to take 
up the cause of his people with equally great courage and 
intelligence. This child was called Tecumseh, which 
means shooting-star. 

The tribe to which Tecumseh belonged had not yielded 
to the temptations offered by the white man. Although 
many of the tribes north of the Ohio River, through the 
influence of alms and whisky, were fast losing their sav- 
age virtues and becoming spiritless beggars, idle, 
drunken, quarrelsome, the Shawnees were still strong 
and warlike. 

Several of the Shawnee tribes lived together in a large 
village on Mad River, not far from the place where 
Springfield, Ohio, now stands. There they had built 
for themselves rude huts made of sapling logs. Around 
these lodges, on the fertile land along the river were 

117 



ng THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 

corn fields, where the Indian women worked while the 
men hunted or went to war. 

In this village, on a bluff near the. river, stood Tecum- 
seh's first home. His father was chief of a small tribe 
and was highly respected for his courage and good 
sense. His mother, the daughter of a chief, was a woman 
of strong character. 

As Tecumseh was the son of such worthy parents, 
and as he was one of three brothers born on the same 
day, he was regarded even in babyhood with uncommon 
interest. The superstitious Indians believed that the 
three little boys would become extraordinary men. Two 
of them, Tecumseh and his brother, Laulewasikaw, ful- 
filled the largest expectations of their friends. 

The child, Tecumseh, was a bright-eyed, handsome 
little fellow, at once winning and masterful in manner. 
His favorite pastime was playing war. The boys he 
played with always made him chief and were as devoted 
to him as ever Indians were to a real chief. 

It is no wonder that at this time the Shawnee chil- 
dren played war ; for their elders were almost constantly 
fighting with the settlers. 

Tecumseh's childhood was far from a peaceful, happy 
one. He learned early the oppressive gloom and the 
wild excitement that accompany war. He was called 
upon, now to take part in the fierce rejoicing that fol- 
lowed an Indian victory; again, to join in the mournful 
wailing of the women when the dead warriors were 
brought from the battlefield. 



EARLY YEARS 



II 9 



But his experience of war was not limited to cele- 
brating and mourning distant victories and defeats. The 
enemy did not spare the village in which he lived. He 
knew that when the 
braves were on the war- 
path the children must 
stay near their mother's 
lodge. For, several 
times runners had come 
in hot haste bidding 
the squaws flee with 
their pappooses to the 
forest and hide there 
till the palefaces had 
passed. It made little 
Tecumseh' s heart beat 
hard to think of the ex- 
citement and terror of 
those days. 

Even in time of peace Tecumseh was accustomed to 
suffering and discontent. Food and clothing were so 
scarce that the Indians were often in want of enough to 
eat and wear. Children died from the effects of hunger 
and cold, and men and women grew gaunt and stern. 
Frequently the hunters came home empty-handed or 
bringing only small game. 

They attributed all their troubles to the "Long Knives," 
as they called the white men, who, they said, had stolen 
their hunting grounds. So when Tecumseh was but a 




INDIAN WARRIORS 



120 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



child he hated the palefaces, and was glad when his 
tribe made Avar against them. 

In 1774 the Ohio Indians learned that the Virginians 
were coming into their country to destroy their villages. 
Accordingly, all able-bodied warriors took up their weap- 
ons and went with the proud chief, Cornstalk, to meet 
the enemy. Tecumseh's father and eldest brother, Chee- 
seekau, were among the number. 

After anxious waiting, those who had stayed behind 
were gladdened by the good news that for the present 
their homes were safe. But many of those homes had 
been made desolate by the battles waged in their defense. 
Cheeseekau came home from the war alone. His father 
had fallen in battle. 

The mother and her children ceased their wailing and 
for the time forgot their loss, as they sat by the fire 
with Cheeseekau and heard the young warrior talk of 
his first battle. He said that he wished to die on the 
battlefield, as his father had done, for an Indian could 
hope for no better end. He told what a good fight the 
Indians had made and how brave their leader had been. 

"All over the field," he said, "you could hear Corn- 
stalk shout to his men 'Be strong ! Be brave !' The war- 
riors had more fear of Cornstalk's hatchet than of the 
Long Knives' guns. They did not dare to run. Some 
tried it. But Cornstalk buried his tomahawk in the head 
of the first, and the rest turned back to fight the pale- 
faces. When the battle was over Cornstalk called a 
council and said : The palefaces are coming against us 



EARLY YEARS 



121 



in great numbers. We can not drive them back. What 
shall we do ? Shall we fight a while longer, kill a few 
more of them, and then yield? Shall we put to death 
our women and children and fight till we die ?' No one 
spoke. Then he said : T see you will not fight. I will 
go and make peace with the white men.' And he made 
us a good peace. Cornstalk is the greatest chief we have 
had since Pontiac." 

Then followed stories of the great Pontiac, who had 
tried to make the Indian tribes stop fighting with one 
another and unite their strength against the white man. 
Thus, before Tecumseh could talk plainly, he heard about 
the heroes of his race, and learned what was expected 
of a good Indian. 

From this time the youthful warrior Cheeseekau took 
his father's place as head of the family. He not only 
provided the family with food and clothing, but also 
looked after the education of his younger brothers. 
Tecumseh was his favorite, and he strove to teach him all 
that was needful to make him a brave warrior and a good 
man. 



II. YOUTH 

During Tecumseh's boyhood the Revolutionary war 
was being fought. The Indians took the part of the 
British. It was natural that they should feel a more 
bitter hatred for the colonists who had actually taken 
their lands and fought against them, than they had for 



122 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



the distant mysterious "king," whom they had been 
taught to call "father," and to regard as a superior be- 
ing. Besides, they little doubted that the king who 
had already beaten the French could subdue his own re- 
bellious subjects. And they looked forward to the 
reward he would give them for their aid when the war 
was over. 

The victories of the colonists were familiar topics 
of discussion among the Indians. They spoke with in- 
creasing uneasiness of the deeds of Washington, Put- 
nam, and Greene. But the name to them more terrible 
than all the rest was that of George Rogers Clark. With 
sinking hearts they heard of his victories on the fron- 
tier. 

In the summer of 1780 scouts brought word to the 
Shawnees on Mad River that this dreaded soldier was 
approaching with his army. Though alarmed, the In- 
dians determined to do what they could to save the cab- 
ins and fort which they had built with much toil, and 
the growing corn upon which they depended for their 
winter food. 

Three hundred warriors assembled in the village. 
They held a hurried council and decided to advance to 
meet Clark's army and surprise it with an attack at day- 
break. But if there was a surprise where Gen. Clark was 
concerned, he was usually the man to give it. Accordingly, 
the Indians learned with dismay that their plan could not 
be carried out, for General Clark's army by forced 
marches had reached and was already surrounding their 



YOUTH 



123 



village. The Indians had built a fort, but now they were 
afraid to use it and took refuge in their log huts. 
They began to cut 
holes in the walls, 
so that they might 
fire on the enemy. 

When General 
Clark heard this, he 
said : " Hold on a 
minute, and I'll 
make holes enough 
for them." With 
that he ordered up 
his cannon and 
caused it to be fired 
into the village. 

The Indians 
were so terrified 
that all who could 
do so fled into the 
woods and swamps. 
The rest fell an 
easy prey to the 
soldiers, who killed 
many warriors, 
made prisoners of the women and children, burned the 
houses, and cut down the corn. 

Tecumseh and his brothers were among those who 
escaped the sword of Clark, but they could not forget 




GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 



124 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



the distress of their kindred. Tecumseh was too young 
to take part in this battle. Although he spent much 
time in fighting sham battles, it was not until six years 
later that he had an opportunity to fight in a real one. 
In 1786 he and his elder brother went out with a band 
of warriors to check or drive back Captain Logan, who 
was advancing toward Mad River. 

In an encounter near Dayton the boy was forced 
for the first time to face a cavalry charge. He had 
never imagined anything so terrifying. He saw those 
great, rushing horses, the cruel flash of steel. He forgot 
his hatred of the white man, his dreams of glory. His 
only thought was to save his life. He threw down his 
gun and ran. 

As soon as he recovered from his fright he felt very 
much ashamed of his cowardly conduct. He was eager 
for another opportunity to test his courage. Fortunately 
for him he did not have to wait long. 

Tecumseh was with a party of Indians who at- 
tacked some flatboats on the Ohio River. The boats 
were taken and all the men in charge of them were killed 
except one, who was made prisoner. 

This was an important occasion in the life of Tecum- 
seh. He acted with such daring and bravery that the 
old warriors of the party were astonished. From that 
night the Shawnees spoke of Tecumseh as a brave. Be- 
sides winning the good opinion of others, he regained his 
self-respect and conquered fear. 

The memory of this victory was not pleasant to 



ADVENTURES OF THE YOUNG BRAVE I2 $ 

Tecumseh. It was followed by the burning of the pris- 
oner. Although the burning of prisoners was not rare 
among the Shawnee Indians this was the first time Tecum- 
seh had seen a man put to death in that barbarous man- 
ner, and he grew sick and faint with horror at the sight. 
But this time he was terrified not for himself but for 
another, and he was not ashamed of his feelings. 

Boy though he was, he stood before the older In- 
dians and told them plainly what he thought of their 
cruel act. He spoke with so much power that he made 
all who heard him feel as he did about it. And they all 
agreed never again to take part in so inhuman a practice. 

On this night Tecumseh gave glimpses of the man 
he was to be. He proved his valor; he showed mercy; 
he influenced warriors by his words. 



III. ADVENTURES OF THE YOUNG BRAVE 

A short time after Tecumseh had proved himself 
worthy to be considered an Indian brave, he started with 
his brother Cheeseekau on a journey across the woods 
and prairies of Indiana and Illinois. The brothers were 
accompanied by a band of Kickapoo Indians. Such a 
journey was an important part of the training of young 
warriors. 

The party tramped through the country, courting 
hardships and adventure, getting acquainted with the 
wilderness, hunting buffaloes, visiting friendly tribes, 



126 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



learning many languages, breaking bread with strangers, 
and visiting vengeance on enemies. To fall upon the 
defenseless cabin of some sleeping frontiersman and mur- 
der him and his family was in their eyes a feat to 
boast of. 

But their warlike exploits were not confined to attacks 
on the white settlers. If they found friendly tribes at 
war with other tribes they joined them. In one of these 
battles Cheeseekau met his death, singing and rejoicing 
that it was his lot to fall like a warrior on the held of 
battle. This young man is said to have had a vision 
that he should die. Before going into battle he made a 
formal speech, telling his friends that he would be shot 
in the forehead in the thick of the right, and his prophecy 
was fulfilled. 

After Cheeseekau" s death Tecumseh took his place as 
leader of the company and continued his wanderings to 
the South. There he made many friends and had nu- 
merous stirring adventures. One evening just as he 
and his eisrht followers were about to ^o to bed their 
camp was attacked by thirty white men. Tecumseh 
ordered his frightened comrades to follow him and 
rushed upon the enemy with such spirit and force that his 
little company killed two of the assailants and frightened 
the rest away. 

Tecumseh returned to Ohio after an absence of three 
years. He discovered that it is not always necessary to 
go away from home to find adventures. His friends and 
neighbors were greatly excited about a victory which 



ADVENTURES OF THE YOUNG BRAVE 



127 



they had just gained over the United States troops under 
General Harmer. 

The next year, 1791, the new republic sent General 
St. Clair with a large army into the Indian country. 
Tecumseh's recent expedition had fitted him to be a good 
scout, and he was therefore sent out to watch the move- 
ments of St. Clair's troops. While he was employed 
scouting, the main body of Indians fell suddenly upon 
St. Clair's troops and completely routed them. During 
the next few years there was no lack of opportunity for 
the Shawnees to indulge their love of battle; for Gen- 
eral Wayne, "Mad Anthony Wayne," as he was called, 
proved a more formidable foe than had General St. 
Clair. Tecumseh's reputation as a warrior was soon 
firmly established. 

He was equally noted as a hunter. Though he had 
long been pointed out as one of the best Shawnee hunters, 
many young men had claimed as great success as he. At 
length some one suggested a way to decide who was the 
ablest hunter. 

"Let us," said he, "each go alone into the forest, for 
three days, to hunt the deer, and the one who brings home 
the largest number of deer skins shall be considered the 
greatest hunter." 

All agreed to this test, and several noted hunters 
started out. After three days each returned bearing the 
evidence of his skill as a hunter. Some proudly dis- 
played ten skins, some twelve. Last of all came Tecum- 
seh with thirty-five deer skins. Then the other Indians 



128 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



stopped boasting, and declared Tecumseh the greatest 
hunter of the Shawnee nation. Tecumseh was a generous 
hunter as well as a skillful one. He made it his business 
to provide many who were old or sick with meat and 
skins. 

Among the Indians the hero was the man who could 
do most to help his tribe. He could do that by hunting, 
to supply its members with food and clothing, by speak- 
ing wisely in council, to lead them to act for their highest 
welfare, and by fighting to defend their rights or avenge 
their wrongs. A brave who could do all this was worthy 
of being a chief, even if he was not the eldest son of a 
chief. 

Tecumseh had shown that he could hunt, that he 
could speak in council, that he could fight. He had 
therefore all the requirements for a chief. Moreover, 
he had great influence with the young men of the neigh- 
boring tribes. 



IV. TECUMSEH DISSATISFIED 

The suffering among the Indians was so great be- 
cause of the ceaseless war they had carried on against 
the white people, that in 1795 many of the tribes were 
ready to accept the terms of peace offered by the United 
States government. 

Accordingly, in June a treaty was made at Green- 
ville, Ohio. The Indians promised to give up all claim 
to many thousand acres of land in the Northwest Terri- 



TECUMSEH DISSATISFIED 



129 



tory, to live at peace with the white settlers occupying 
the land, to notify them of the hostile plans of other tribes, 
to surrender whatever prisoners they had, to give up 
evil doers for trial, to protect travelers and traders, and 
to recognize no "father" but the President of the United 
States. 

In return for all this the national government pledged 
itself to give the Indians a yearly "present" of food, 
blankets, powder, and other necessities, to respect the 
boundary lines and prevent settlers from hunting or 
intruding on Indian lands, and to punish white men who 
were found guilty of robbing or murdering Indians. 

Tecumseh would not attend the council at which the 
treaty was made. Much as he felt the need of peace he 
was unwilling to pay for it a price which he thought the 
white man had no right to ask. He was unwilling to 
give up the lands which the Great Spirit had allotted to 
the Indians, and which were necessary to their very ex- 
istence. 

He foresaw that in the years of peace to which the 
Indians had pledged themselves, white men without num- 
ber would come to make their homes in the fertile lands 
secured by the treaty. He foresaw that while the settle- 
ments flourished the tribes would become more and more 
dependent and submissive to the will of their civilized 
neighbors. 

The injurious effect of civilization upon the Indian 
tribes was only too evident to all. The Superintendent of 
Indian Affairs later wrote to President Jefferson : "I can 

Four Ind. — 9 



130 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



tell at once upon looking at an Indian whom I may chance 
to meet whether he belongs to a neighboring or to a 
more distant tribe. The latter is generally well-clothed, 
healthy, and vigorous ; the former, half-naked, filthy, and 
enfeebled by intoxication, and many of them are without 
arms excepting a knife, which they carry for the most 
villainous purposes." 

What wonder that the patriotic Tecumseh refused to 
sanction a treaty which he considered a step toward the 
downfall of his race ! He remembered the dead hero Pon- 
tiac, and wished that the red men had such a chieftain to 
unite them and rouse their manhood. He determined 
henceforth to take Pontiac for his model and to do what 
he could to unite his people and prepare them to resist 
the next attempt of the palefaces to take the land of the 
redskins. With this idea in view he used his influence 
to collect from various tribes a band of followers, who 
made him their chief. 

The new chief was not an unworthy successor of the 
great Pontiac. Though living at a time when the In- 
dians were beginning to lose much of their native vigor 
and virtue, Tecumseh had grown to be one of the most 
princely red men we know anything about. 

His appearance was dignified and pleasing. Colonel 
W. S. Hatch gave the following picturesque description 
of him: "His height was about five feet nine inches; 
his face, oval rather than angular; his mouth, beauti- 
fully formed, like that of Napoleon I., as represented in 
his portraits; his eyes, clear, transparent hazel, with a 



TECUMSEH DISSATISFIED 



I 3 I 



mild, pleasant expression when in repose, or in conversa- 
tion ; but when excited in his ^orations or by the enthu- 
siasm of conflict, or when in anger, they appeared like 
balls of fire; his teeth, beautifully white, and his com- 
plexion more of a light 



derclothes of the same ■ \ f ®m< & 

material; the usual cape iff^S^ ) * " 
with finish of leather \ 
fringe about the neck, tecumseh 
cape, edges of the front opening, and bottom of the frock; 
a belt of the same material, in which were his sidearms 
(an elegant silver-mounted tomahawk and a knife in a 
strong leather case) ; short pantaloons, connected with 



brown or tan than red ; 
his whole tribe, as well 
as their kindred, the Ot- 
tawas, had light com- 
plexions; his arms and 
hands were finely 
formed ; his limbs 
straight ; he always stood 
very erect, and walked 
with a brisk, elastic, vig- 
orous step. He invari- 
ably dressed in Indian 
tanned buckskin; a per- 
fectly well-fitting hunt- 
ing frock descending to 
the knee was over his un- 




132 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



neatly fitting leggings and moccasins, with a mantle of 
the same material thrown over his left shoulder, used as 
a blanket in camp, and as a protection in storms." 

Tecumseh's character was not that of the typical In- 
dian, because it was broader. The virtues that most 
Indians exercise only in the family, or, at best, in the 
tribe, he practised toward his entire race, and, to some 
extent, toward all mankind. He once said: "My tribe 
is nothing to me; my race, everything." His hatred 
of the white man was general, not personal. Able, brave 
men, whether red or white, he respected and admired. 
While most Indians thought it necessary to be truthful 
to friends only, Tecumseh was honest in his dealings 
with his enemies. He often set white men an example 
of mercy. 

An amusing story is told of him, which shows how 
kindly tolerant he was where he could feel nothing but 
contempt for a man : One evening on entering the house 
of a white man with whom he was acquainted, Tecumseh 
found a gigantic stranger there, who was so badly fright- 
ened at sight of him that he took refuge behind the other 
men in the room, begging them to save him. Tecumseh 
stood a moment sternly watching the great fellow. 
Then he went up and patted the cowering creature on 
the shoulder, saying good naturedly, "Big baby; big 
baby !" 

In 1804 and 1805, before the new chief was ready 
for decided action, Governor Harrison, of Indiana Ter- 
ritory, made additional treaties with a few weak and 



TECUMSEH'S BROTHER, THE PROPHET 



submissive tribes, by which he laid claim to more land. 
This measure aroused such general indignation among the 
more hardy and warlike Indians that Tecumseh felt the 
time had come when he might win them to support his 
cherished plan of united opposition to the whites. 



V. TECUMSEH'S BROTHER, THE PROPHET 

Tecumseh had not been alone in his anxiety for the 
future of his race. After the death of his elder brother 
he had made his twin brother, Laulewasikaw, his trusted 



comrade. Together they had 
talked over the decay in power 
and manliness that was swiftly 
overtaking the tribes, and the 
wrongs the red men suffered 
at the hands of the white. 
They had not spent their 
strength in useless murmur- 
ings, but had analyzed the 
causes of trouble and decided 
how they might be removed. 




One day after brooding the prophet 
deeply over these matters Laulewasikaw fell upon the 
earth in a swoon. For a long time he lay quite stiff 
and rigid, and those who saw him thought he was dead. 
But by and by he gave a deep moan and opened his eyes. 
For a moment he looked about as if he did not know 



134 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



where he was. On coming to his senses he explained to 
his friends that he had had a vision in which he had 
seen the Great Spirit, who had told him what to do to 
save the Indian people from destruction. 

From that time he styled himself "Prophet" and 
claimed to act under the direction of the Great Spirit. 
He changed his name to Tenskwatawa to signify that he 
was the "Open Door," through which all might learn 
the will of the Great Spirit. 

Though professing to have supernatural power him- 
self, Tenskwatawa realized the degrading effect of petty 
superstition and the terror and injury the medicine 
men were able to bring upon the simple-minded Indians 
who believed in their charms and spells. He denounced 
the practice of sorcery and witchcraft as against the will 
of the Great Spirit. 

Many of the Prophet's teachings were such as we 
should all approve of. Wishing to purify the individual 
and family life of the Indians, he forbade men to marry 
more than one wife, and commanded them to take care 
of their families and to provide for those who were old 
and sick. He required them to work, to till the ground 
and raise corn, and. to hunt. 

Some of his teachings were intended to make the 
Indians as a people independent of the white race. The 
Great Spirit, said Tenskwatawa, had made the Indians to 
be a single people, quite distinct from the white men and 
for different purposes. The tribes must therefore stop 
fighting with one another and must unite and live peace- 



TECUMSEH'S BROTHER, THE PROPHET 



ably together as one tribe. They must not fight with the 
white men, either Americans or British. Neither must 
they intermarry with them or adopt their customs. The 
Great Spirit wished his red children to throw aside the 
garments of cotton and wool they had borrowed from the 
whites and clothe themselves in the skins of wild animals; 
he wished them to stop feeding on pork and beef, and 
bread made from wheat, and instead to eat the flesh of 
the wild deer and the bison, which he had provided for 
them, and bread made from Indian corn. Above all, 
they must let alone whisky which might do well enough 
for white men, but was never intended for Indians. 

Furthermore, Tenskwatawa taught the Indians that 
a tribe had no right to sell the land it lived on. The 
Great Spirit had given the red people the land that they 
might enjoy it in common, just as they did the light and 
the air. He did not wish them to measure it off and 
build fences around it. Since no one chief or tribe 
owned the land, no single chief or tribe could sell it. 
No Indian territory therefore could be sold to the white 
men without the consent of all tribes and all Indians. 

The words of the Prophet were eagerly listened 
to. Indians came from far and near to hear him. Some 
were so excited by what he said against witchcraft that 
they put to death those who persisted in using charms and 
pronouncing incantations. 

The sayings and doings of the Shawnee Prophet soon 
attracted the attention of the Governor of Indiana Terri- 
tory. Pity for the victims of the Prophet's misguided 



136 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



zeal, and alarm because of the influence Tenskwatawa 
seemed to be gaining, led Governor William Henry Har- 
rison to take measures to check the popularity of a man 
who seemed to be a fraud and. a mischief-maker. He 
sent to the Delaware Indians the following "speech" : 

"My Chil- 
dren : My heart 
is filled with 
grief, and my 
eyes are dis- 
solved in tears 
at the news 
which has 
reached me. * 
* * Who is 
this pretended 
prophet w h o 
dares to speak 
in the name of 
the Great Crea- 
tor ? Examine 
him. Is he 
more wise and 
virtuous . than 
you are your- 
selves, that he should be selected to convey to you 
the orders of your God? Demand of him some proofs 
at least of his being the messenger of the Deity. If 
God has really employed him, He has doubtless authorized 




ECLIPSE OF THE SUN 



GREENVILLE 



137 



him to perform miracles, that he may be known and re- 
ceived as a prophet. If he is really a prophet, ask him 
to cause the sun to stand still, the moon to alter its course, 
the rivers to cease to flow, or the dead to rise from their 
graves. If he does these things you may believe that 
he has been sent from God. He tells you that the Great 
Spirit commands you to punish with death those who 
deal in magic, and that he is authorized to point them 
out. Wretched delusion! Is, then, the Master of Life 
obliged to employ mortal man to punish those who offend 
Him? * * * Clear your eyes, I beseech you, from 
the mist which surrounds them. No longer be imposed 
on by the arts of the impostor. Drive him from your 
town and let peace and harmony prevail amongst you." 

This letter increased rather than diminished the influ- 
ence of the Prophet. He met the Governor's doubt of 
his power with fine scorn and named a day on which he 
would "put the sun under his feet." Strange to say, on 
the day named an eclipse of the sun occurred, and the 
afnrighted savages quaked with fear and thought it was 
all the work of Tenskwatawa. 



VI. GREENVILLE 

Tenskwatawa met with strong opposition from some • 
of the Indians. The small chiefs especially were dis- 
pleased with the idea that the tribes should unite to form 
one people, as that would take away their own power. 



138 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



They, therefore, heard the Prophet with anger, and car- 
ried away an evil report of him. 

^ Still, many believed all that he said, and wished to 
gain the good will of the Great Spirit by doing his bid- 
ding. They were willing to leave their tribes to follow 
the Prophet. So it happened that in 1806 Tenskwatawa 
and Tecumseh with their followers established a town at 
Greenville, Ohio. There all lived in accordance with 
the Prophet's teachings. They strengthened their bodies 
by running and swimming and wrestling. They lived at 
peace without drunkenness. They minded their own 
affairs. Now, all this was just what President Jefferson, 
the Indians' friend, had often advised the red men to do. 

^ Yet the white neighbors were greatly disturbed and 
wished to break up the Prophet's town. In the first 
place the town was on land that had been ceded to the 
United States, or the Seventeen Fires (as the Indians 
picturesquely named the new nation), by the treaty of 
Greenville. Then, the visiting Indians who came from 
all parts of the country to hear the words of the Prophet 
were a constant source of alarm to the border settlers. 
And, although he professed to preach peace, the Prophet 
was believed by many to be preparing secretly for war. 

Besides, innocent as most of his teachings appeared, 
those regarding property rights were hostile to the white 
race and decidedly annoying to the men who coveted 
the hunting grounds of the savages. The United States 
government in acquiring land from the Indians had 
usually proceeded as if it were the property of the tribe 



GREENVILLE 



139 



that camped or hunted upon it. The Indian Commission- 
ers had had little difficulty in gaining rich tracts of land 
from weak tribes, at comparatively little expense, by this 
method. When it came to a question of land, even Jef- 
ferson had little sympathy for the Indians. He had not 
scrupled to advise his agent to encourage chiefs to get 
into debt at the trading posts, so that when hard pressed 
for money they might be persuaded to part with the lands 
of their tribes. 

Now Tecumseh had seen that the whole struggle be- 
tween the red men and the white was a question of land. 
If the white men were kind to the Indians and came 
among them with fair promises and goodly presents, their 
object was to get land. If they came with threats and 
the sword, their object was, still, to get land. They 
needed the land. They could not grow and prosper 
without it. But if the white men needed land in order 
to live how much more did the Indians need it ! Where 
a few acres of farm land would give a white family 
comfortable support, many acres were needed to support 
an Indian family by the chase. Tecumseh argued in this 
way: The Seventeen Fires unite to get our lands from 
us. Let us follow their example. Let us unite to hold 
our lands. Let us keep at peace with them and do them 
no harm. Let us give them no reason to fight with us 
and take our land in battle. When they offer to buy we 
will refuse to sell. If they try to force us to part with 
our lands we will stand together and resist them like 
men. 



140 THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 

He heartily agreed with his brother's teachings con- 
cerning property rights, and possibly suggested many 
ideas that Tenskwatawa fancied he received from the 
Great Spirit. Certain it is that Teeumseh had long held 
similar views and had done his best to spread them. Al- 
though Tenskwatawa was more conspicuous than Teeum- 
seh, the latter had the stronger character. For a time he 
kept in the background and let his brother do the talking, 
but his personal influence had much to do with giving 
weight to the Prophet's words. 

The brothers had not been at Greenville long before 
they were summoned to Fort Wayne by the commandant 
there to hear a letter from their "father," the President 
of the Seventeen Fires. Teeumseh refused to go. He 
demanded that the letter be brought to him. This put 
the officer in a trying position, but there was nothing left 
for him to do but send the letter to Greenville. It proved 
to be a request that the Prophet move his town beyond 
the boundaries of the territory owned by the United 
States. The letter was courteous, and offered the Indians 
assistance to move and build new homes. 

To the President's request Teeumseh sent a decided 
refusal. He said : "These lands are ours ; we were the 
first owners ; no one has the right to move us. The Great 
Spirit appointed this place for us to light our fires and 
here we will stay." 

The settlement continued to be a source of annoy- 
ance to the government. Indians kept coming from dis- 
tant regions to visit the Prophet. Rumor said that the 



GREENVILLE I4I 

brothers were working under the direction of British 
agents, who were trying to rouse the Indians to make war 
on the United States. 

To counteract the British influence the Governor of 
Ohio sent a message to Greenville. At a council called 
to consider the Governor's letter, the chief, Blue Jacket, 
and the Prophet made speeches in which they declared 
their wish to remain at peace with the British and the 
Long Knives, as they called the settlers. 

Tecumseh accompanied the commissioners on their 
return and held a conference with the Governor of Ohio. 
He spoke plainly, saying the Indians had little cause for 
friendliness to either the British or the people of the 
United States, both of whom had robbed them of their 
lands by making unjust treaties. But he assured the 
governor that for their own sake the Indians wished 
to remain at peace with both nations. 

The Governor, like all who heard Tecumseh speak, 
was impressed with his sense and honesty, and believed 
that the Indians were not planning war. 

A little later Tecumseh was again called to Springfield 
to attend a large council of Indians and white men. The 
council was held to determine who was responsible for 
the murder of a white man, who had been found dead not 
far from Springfield. On this occasion Tecumseh at- 
tracted much attention. In the first place he refused to 
give up his arms, and entered the council with the dignity 
of manner and the arms of a warrior. 

He made a speech of such passion and eloquence 



142 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



that the interpreter was unable to keep up with him or 
translate his ideas. The white men were left to guess 
his meaning by watching his wrathful face and the ex- 
citement of his hearers. The Indians, however, under- 
stood him perfectly, and when the council was over and 
they went to their homes all repeated what they could re- 
member of the wonderful speech. 

The influence of Tenskwatawa and Tecumseh in- 
creased. The excitement among the Indians became more 
general. Governor Harrison again wrote to the Shawnee 
tribes. He began by reminding them of the treaties be- 
tween the Indians and the people of the United States : 

" My children, listen to me. I speak in the name of 
your father, the great chief of the Seventeen Fires. 

" My children, it is now twelve years since the toma- 
hawk, which you had raised by the advice of your father, 
the King of Great Britain, was buried at Greenville, in 
the presence of that great warrior, General Wayne. 

"My children, you then promised, and the Great 
Spirit heard it, that you would in future live in peace and 
friendship with your brothers, the Americans. You made 
a treaty with your father, and one that contained a 
number of good things, equally beneficial to all the tribes 
of red people who were parties to it. 

" My children, you promised in that treaty to acknowl- 
edge no other father than the chief of the Seventeen Fires, 
and never to listen to the proposition of any foreign na- 
tion. You promised never to lift up the tomahawk 
against any of your father's children, and to give notice 



GREENVILLE 



H3 



of any other tribe that intended it. Your father also 
promised to do something for you, particularly to deliver 
to you every year a certain quantity of goods, to prevent 
any white man from settling on your lands without your 
consent, or from doing you any personal injury. He 
promised to run a line between your land and his, so that 
you might know your own ; and you were to be permitted 
to live and hunt upon your father's land as long as you 
behaved yourselves well. My children, which of these 
articles has your father broken? You know that he has 
observed them all with the utmost good faith. But, my 
children, have you done so? Have you not always had 
your ears open to receive bad advice from the white people 
beyond the lakes ?" 

Although Governor Harrison writes in this letter as 
if he thought the white men had kept their part of the 
treaty, he had written quite differently to President Jeffer- 
son, telling him how the settlers were continually violat- 
ing the treaty by hunting on Indian territory and report- 
ing that it was impossible for the Indians to get justice 
when their kinsmen were murdered by white men; for 
even if a murderer was brought to trial no jury of white 
men would pronounce the murderer of an Indian guilty. 
"All these injuries the Indians have hitherto borne with 
astonishing patience." Thus Mr. Harrison had written to 
the President, but it was evidently his policy to try to 
make the Indians think they had no cause for complaint. 
In his letter to the Shawnees he went on to say : 

"My children, I have heard bad news. The sacred 



144 



THE STORY OF T ECU MS EH 



spot where the great council fire was kindled, around 
which the Seventeen Fires and ten tribes of their chil- 
dren smoked the pipe of peace — that very spot where 
the Great Spirit saw his red and white children encircle 
themselves with the chain of friendship — that place has 
been selected for dark and bloody councils. 

"My children, this business must be stopped. You 
have called in a number of men from the most distant 
tribes to listen to a fool, who speaks not the words of the 
Great Spirit, but those of the devil and of the British 
agents. My children, your conduct has much alarmed 
the white settlers near you. They desire that you will 
send away those people, and if they wish to have the 
impostor with them they can carry him. Let him go to 
the lakes; he can hear the British more distinctly." 

To this letter the Prophet sent a dignified answer, 
denying the charges the Governor had made. He spoke 
with regret rather than anger, and said that "his father 
(the Governor) had been listening to evil birds." 



VII. THE PROPHET'S TOWN 

In 1808 Tecumseh and the Prophet moved with their 
followers to the Wabash Valley, and established on the 
Tippecanoe River a village known as the Prophet's Town. 

Several advantages were to be gained by moving 
from Greenville to Tippecanoe, all of which probably had 
their weight in influencing the brothers to make this 



THE PROPHET'S TOWN 



145 



change. In the first place, there seems to be little doubt 
that Tecumseh wanted peace, at least until he had built 
up a confederacy strong enough to fight the Americans 
with some hope of success. At Greenville the Indians 
were so near the settlers that there was constant danger 
of trouble between them. And Tecumseh realized that 
any wrong done by his people might be made an excuse 
for the government to take more lands from the In- 
dians. 

Then, too, this redskinned statesman realized in his 
way that the best way to prevent war was to be ready for 
it. He wished his people to be independent of the whites 
for their livelihood. The Wabash Valley offered the 
richest hunting grounds between the Lakes and the Ohio. 
Here they need not starve should they be denied aid by 
the United States government. 

The location of the new village had further political 
value. It was in the center of a district where many 
tribes camped, over which the brothers wished to extend 
their influence. From the new town communication with 
the British could be more easily carried on. This was 
important in view of the troubled relations existing be- 
tween the United States and Great Britain. Tecumseh 
was shrewd enough to see that though under ordinary 
circumstances the Indians were not sufficiently strong 
to be very formidable to the United States government, 
their friendship or enmity would be an important consid- 
eration in the war that threatened. And he hoped that 
the Long Knives' anxiety lest they should join the British 

Four Ixd. — 10 



146 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



would prevent their doing anything to gain the ill will 
of the Indians, 

The brothers wished Governor Harrison to understand 
that their desire was for peace, and that they did not 
intend to make war unless driven to do so. Accord- 
ingly, in August, Tenskwatawa, with a band of followers, 
made the Governor a visit. The Indians stayed at Vin- 
cennes for about two weeks. Harrison was surprised to 
find the Prophet an intelligent and gifted man. He tested 
the sincerity of the Prophet's followers by questions 
as to their belief and by putting in their way opportuni- 
ties to drink whisky. He was again surprised to find 
them very earnest in their faith and able to resist the 
fire water. In Tenskwatawa' s farewell speech to Harri- 
son, he said : 

"Father : It is three years since I first began that 
system of religion which I now practice. The white 
people and some of the Indians were against me, but 
I had no other intention but to introduce among the 
Indians those good principles of religion which the white 
people profess. I was spoken badly of by the white peo- 
ple, who reproached me with misleading the Indians, but 
I defy them to say that I did anything amiss. * * * 

"The Great Spirit told me to tell the Indians that 
he had made them, and made the world — that he had 
placed them on it to do good and not evil. 

"I told all the redskins that the way they were in was 
not good and they ought to abandon it ; that we ought 
to consider ourselves as one man, but we ought to live 



THE PROPHET'S TOWN 



147 



according to our customs, the red people after their 
fashion and the white people after theirs; particularly 
that they should not drink whisky ; that it was not made 
for them, but for the white people who knew how to use 
it, and that it is the cause of all the mischiefs which 
the Indians suffer, and that we must follow the direc- 
tions of the Great Spirit, and listen to Him, as it was 
He who made us ; determine to listen to nothing that is 
bad; do not take up the tomahawk should it be offered 
by the British or by the Long Knives ; do not meddle with 
anything that does not belong to you, but mind your 
own business and cultivate the ground, that your women 
and children may have enough to live on. 

"I now inform you that it is our intention to live 
in peace with our father and his people forever. 

"My father, I have informed you what we mean to 
do, and I call the Great Spirit to witness the truth of my 
declaration. The religion which I ha\ r e established 
for the last three years has been attended by all the dif- 
ferent tribes of Indians in this part of the world. Those 
Indians were once different people ; they are now but one ; 
they are determined to practise what I have communi- 
cated to them, that has come directly from the Great 
Spirit through me." 

The Prophet made a favorable impression on the 
Governor, and after his visit affairs went smoothly for a 
time. The Prophet preached and his followers worked. 
Tecumseh traveled about north and south, east and 
west, talking with the Indians and trying to unite the 



148 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



tribes and to persuade them to follow his brother's teach- 
ings. 

In the meantime, settlers came steadily from the south 
and the east, and the governor felt the need of more 
land. Since he saw no prospect of immediate trouble 
with the British and was convinced that the Prophet 
had not been preparing the Indians for war, he deter- 
mined to attempt to extend the United States territory. 

On the thirtieth of September, 1809, Governor Harri- 
son called all the tribes that claimed certain lands be- 
teen the White and Wabash rivers to a council. Only a 
few of the weak and degenerate tribes answered the 
summons. Nevertheless, he went through the ceremony 
of making a treaty by which the United States govern- 
ment claimed three million acres of Indian land. 

This act of Harrison's lighted a hundred council 
fires. Everywhere the Indians denounced this treaty. 
Soon word reached Vincennes that tribes that had before 
stood apart cherishing their independence had declared 
their willingness to join the brothers at Tippecanoe. 
At the Prophet's town the voice of the warrior, Tecum- 
seh, sounded above that of the preacher, Tenskwatawa; 
and running and wrestling were said to have given place 
to the practice of shooting and wielding the tomahawk. 

When the annual supply of salt was sent to Tippe- 
canoe, the Prophet refused to accept it, and sent word to 
the Governor that the Americans had dealt unfairly with 
the Indians, and that friendly relations could be renewed 
only by the nullification of the treaty of 1809. 



HARRISON AND TECUMSEH 



149 



The Indians were evidently ready for war, and re- 
peated rumors of plots to attack the settlements caused 
great anxiety among the frontiersmen. The Indians 
now recognized Tecumseh as their leader, and looked 
to him for the word of command. Realizing how much 
loss of life and land a defeat would bring to the Indians, 
he worked tirelessly to make his people ready for war, 
but resolved not to hazard a battle unless driven to 
do so. 



VIII. THE COUNCIL BETWEEN HARRISON AND ' 
TECUMSEH 

Governor Harrison sent agents to Tippecanoe, who 
brought back word that the Indians were preparing for 
war; that Tecumseh had gathered about him five thou- 
sand warriors, and that the British were encouraging 
them to go to war, and promising them aid. He there- 
fore sent a letter to the Prophet telling him of the reports 
he had received, and warning him not to make an enemy 
of the Seventeen Fires. He wrote: 

"Don't deceive yourselves; do not believe that all 
the nations of Indians united are able to resist the force 
of the Seventeen Fires. I know your warriors are 
brave; but ours are not less so. But what can a few 
brave warriors do against the innumerable warriors of 
the Seventeen Fires? Our blue-coats are more numer- 
ous than you can count; our hunters are like the leaves 
of the forest, or the grains of sand on the Wabash. Do 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



not think that the red-coats can protect you ; they are not 
able to protect themselves. They do not think of going 
to war with us. If they did, you would in a few moons 
see our flag wave over all the forts of Canada. What 
reason have you to complain of the Seventeen Fires? 
Have they taken anything from you? Have they ever 




HARRISON'S COUNCIL WITH TECUMSEH AT VINCENNES 



violated the treaties made with the red men? You say 
they have purchased lands from those who had no right 
to sell them. Show that this is true and the land will 
be instantly restored. Show us the rightful owners. I 
have full power to arrange this business ; but if you would 
rather carry your complaints before your great father, 
the President, you shall be indulged. I will immediately 



HARRISON AND TECUM S EH 



take means to send you, with those chiefs that you may 
choose, to the city where your father lives. Everything 
necessary shall be prepared for your journey, and means 
taken for your safe return." 

Instead of answering this letter, Tenskwatawa said 
he would send his brother, Tecumseh, to Vincennes to 
confer with the Governor. Early in August a fleet of 
eighty canoes started down the Wabash for the capital. 
Tecumseh, with four hundred warriors at his back, all 
armed and painted as if for battle, was on his way to meet 
in council for the first time the man who was respon- 
sible for the treaty of 1809. 

The party encamped just outside of Vincennes, and 
on the morning appointed for the council Tecumseh ap- 
peared attended by forty warriors. He refused to meet 
the Governor and his officers in council on the porch of 
the Governor's house, saying he preferred to hold the 
conference under a clump of trees not far off. The 
Governor consented and ordered benches and chairs to 
be taken to the grove. When Tecumseh was asked to 
take a chair he replied pompously: "The sun is my 
father; the earth is my mother; on her bosom I will 
repose," and seated himself on the ground. His warriors 
followed his example. In his speech Tecumseh stated 
plainly the grievances of the Indians. He said : 

"Brother, since the peace was made, you have killed 
some Shawnees, Winnebagoes, Delawares, and Miamis, 
and you have taken our land from us, and I do not see 
how we can remain at peace if you continue to do so. 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



You try to force the red people to do some injury. It is 
you that are pushing them on to do mischief. You en- 
deavor to make distinctions. You wish to prevent the 
Indians doing as we wish them — to unite, and let them 
consider their lands as the common property of the 
whole ; you take tribes aside and advise them not to come 
into this measure; and until our plan is accomplished we 
do not wish to accept your invitation to go to see the 
President. You want by your distinctions of Indian 
tribes in allotting to each a particular tract of land, to 
make them to war with each other. You never see an 
Indian come and endeavor to make the white people do 
so. You are continually driving the red people; when, 
at last, you will drive them into the Great Lake, where 
they can neither stand nor walk. 

"Brother, you ought to know what you are doing 
with the Indians. Perhaps it is by direction of the 
President to make these distinctions. It is a very bad 
thing and we do not like it. Since my residence at 
Tippecanoe we have endeavored to level all distinctions 
— to destroy village chiefs, by whom all mischief is done. 
It is they who sell our lands to the Americans. Our ob- 
ject is to let our affairs be transacted by warriors. 

"Brother, only a few had part in the selling of this 
land and the goods that were given for it. The treaty 
was afterwards brought here, and the Weas were in- 
duced to give their consent because of their small num- 
bers. The treaty at Fort Wayne was made through 
the threats of Winnemac ; but in future we are prepared 



HARRISON AND TECUMSEH 



153 



to punish those chiefs who may come forward to pro- 
pose to sell the land. If you continue to purchase of 
them it will produce war among- the different tribes, and, 
at last, I do not know what will be the consequence to 
the white people. 

"Brother, I was glad to hear your speech. You 
said that if we could show that the land was sold by 
people that had no right to sell, you would restore it. 
Those that did sell it did not own it. It was me. Those 
tribes set up a claim, but the tribes with me will not 
agree to their claim. If the land is not restored to us 
you will see when we return to our homes how it will be 
settled. We shall have a great council, at which all the 
tribes will be present, when we shall show to those who 
sold that they had no right to the claim they set up ; and 
we will see what will be done to those chiefs that did sell 
the land to you. I am not alone in this determination ; 
it is the determination of all the warriors and red people 
that listen to me. I now wish you to listen to me. If 
you do not, it will appear as if you wished me to 
kill all the chiefs that sold you the land. I tell you so 
because I am authorized by all the tribes to do so. I 
am the head of them all ; I am a warrior, and all the 
warriors will meet together in two or three moons from 
this ; then I will call for those chiefs that sold you the land 
and shall know what to do with them. If you do not re- 
store the land, you will have a hand in killing them." 

Governor Harrison began his reply by saying that the 
Indian tribes were and always had been independent of 



154 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



one another, and had a right to sell their own lands, with- 
out interference from others. 

Tecumseh might have answered that the Seventeen 
Fires had already recognized that the land was the 
common property of the tribes by treating with ten of 
them in making the Greenville purchase. But instead he 
and his followers lost their temper and jumped to their 
feet in a rage, as if to attack the Governor. And the 
council ended in an undignified row. 

- Tecumseh regretted this very much. He sent an 
apology to Governor Harrison and requested another 
meeting. Another council was called and this time the 
Indians controlled their anger ; but Tecumseh maintained 
till the last that the Indians would never allow the white 
people to take possession of the land they claimed by the 
treaty of 1809. 

The next day Governor Harrison, accompanied only 
by an interpreter, courageously visited Tecumseh's en- 
campment and had a long talk with him. Tecumseh said 
the Indians had no wish for war. and would gladly be 
at peace with the Long Knives if the Governor could per- 
suade the President to give back the disputed land. 
He said he had no wish to join the British, who were 
not the true friends of the Indians, but were always 
urging them to fight against the Americans for their 
own advantage. 

Governor Harrison said he would report to the Presi- 
dent all that Tecumseh had said, but that he knew the 
President would not give up the land he had purchased. 



PREPARATIONS FOR WAR 



"Well," said Tecumseh, bluntly, "as the great chief 
is to determine the matter, I hope the Great Spirit will 
put sense enough into his head to induce him to direct 
you to give up this land. It is true, he is so far off he 
will not be hurt by the war ; he may sit in his town and 
drink his wine, while you and I will have to fight it 
out." 



IX. PREPARATIONS FOR WAR 

A year of unrest and anxiety followed the council 
at Vincennes. The United States government made 
an attempt to survey the new purchase, but the surveyors 
were driven off by the Indians. 

Occasional outrages were committed on both sides. 
Horses were stolen. Several white men were murdered 
by Indians, and several Indians were murdered by white 
men. 

In the spring of 1811, when the usual supply of salt 
was sent up the Wabash to be distributed among the 
tribes, the Indians at the Prophet's town, instead of 
again rejecting it, seized it all. This was done in the 
absence of Tecumseh, who seemed in every way to seek 
to avoid bringing about war. 

Governor Harrison knew the treacherous nature of 
Indians and feared that Tecumseh's desire for peace 
might be feigned in order to throw him off his guard. 
He reasoned that it was scarcely to be expected and 
little to be wished that the United States should relin- 



156 THE STORY OF TECUM S EH 

quish the territory for which the Indians were contend- 
ing. The Indians would hardly give up the land with- 
out war. Delay only gave Tecumseh time to strengthen 
his band. Harrison thought it wise to force the broth- 
ers to open war or to give assurance of peace. Accord- 
ingly, he wrote them a letter or speech, in which he 
said : 

"Brothers, this is the third year that all the white peo- 
ple in this country have been alarmed at your proceed- 
ings; you threaten us with war; you invite all the tribes 
to the north and west of you to join against us. 

"Brothers, your warriors who have lately been here 
deny this, but I have received information from every 
direction ; the tribes on the Mississippi have sent me word 
that you intended to murder me, and then to commence 
a war upon our people. I have also received the speech 
you sent to the Pottawottomies and others to join you 
for that purpose ; but if I had no other evidence of your 
hostility to us your seizing the salt I lately sent up the 
Wabash is sufficient. Brothers, our citizens are alarmed, 
and my warriors are preparing themselves, not to strike 
you but to defend themselves, and their women and 
children. You shall not surprise us as you expect to 
do ; you are about to undertake a very rash act. As a 
friend, I advise you to consider well of it ; a little reflec- 
tion may save us a great deal of trouble and prevent much 
mischief; it is not yet too late. 

"Brothers, if you wish to satisfy us that your in- 
tentions are good, follow the advice I have given you 



PREPARATIONS FOR WAR 



157 



before: that is, that one or both of you should visit 
the President of the United States and lay your griev- 
ances before him. He will treat you well, will listen 
to what you say, and if you can show him that you have 
been injured, you will receive justice. If you will follow 
my advice in this respect it will convince the citizens of 
this country and myself that you have no design to 
attack them. Brothers, with respect to the lands that 
were purchased last fall, I can enter into no negotiations 
with you on that subject; the affair is in the hands of 
the President. If you wish to go and see him, I will 
supply you with the means." 

If either of the brothers should act upon the Gov- 
ernor's advice and go to Washington he would be vir- 
tually a hostage in the hands of the government, and 
the Indians would not dare to do the settlers any harm 
lest their leader should come to grief because of their 
misdoing. 

Tecumseh sent the Governor a brief, friendly reply, 
in which he promised to go to Vincennes himself in 
a short time. Governor Harrison did not know just what 
to expect from the proposed visit, but he remembered 
Pontiac's attempt to capture Detroit by surprise and 
he prepared to give his guest a warlike reception if 
need be. 

Late in July the chief arrived, attended by about three 
hundred Indians. A council was held which the Gov- 
ernor opened by recounting the injuries the white men 
had suffered at the hands of the Indians, and by again 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



making the charge that the Indians were preparing for 
Avar. Tecumseh replied with a counter enumeration of 
injuries, and said again that the Indians would never 
give up the land in dispute, but that it was his wish and 
hope that the matter could be settled peaceably. He 

said that he was trvins: 

- r^f^^f^ % to build up a strong na- 
^ to-''"'' 7 - ^f^-' f J. S of red men. after the 

: '-.^i:;vf-"^gfe -V-. 1 I model of the Seventeen 
itf^-HP'';- ^4Ll«Bi Fires, and that he was 

on his way to visit the 
southern tribes to invite 
them to join his league. 
He assured Governor 
Harrison that he had 
given the strictest orders 
that the northern Indians 
should remain at peace 
during his absence, and 
that as soon as he re- 
turned he would go to 
Washington to settle the 
land question. 
Tecumseh then hastened to the South, where he 
worked to good effect among the Creeks and Seminoles. 
persuading them to join his confederacy. It is said that 
where he could not persuade he threatened. One story 
illustrating his manner of dealing with those that resisted 
him is as follows : Visiting a tribe which listened coldlv 



TECUMSEH INCITING THE CREEKS 

X 



PREPARATIONS FOR WAR 



159 



to his words and seemed unwilling to take part in his 
plans he suddenly lost all patience. With fierce ges- 
tures and a terrible look he shouted : "You do not think 
what I say is true. You do not believe this is the wish 
of the Great Spirit. I will show you. When I reach 
Detroit I will stamp my foot on the earth and the earth 
will tremble and shake your houses down about your 
ears." The tale goes on to say that after due time had 
elapsed for Tecumseh to reach Detroit an earthquake 
shook down all the dwellings of the village he had left in 
anger. Whether this is true or not, Tecumseh certainly 
had wonderful influence over all tribes. Governor Harri- 
son wrote to the Secretary of War about him : "If it were 
not for the vicinity of the United States, he would per- 
haps be the founder of an empire that would rival in 
glory Mexico or Peru. No difficulties deter him. For 
four years he has been in constant motion. You see him 
to-day on the Wabash, and in a short time hear of him 
on the shores of Lake Erie or Michigan, or on the banks 
of the Mississippi; and wherever he goes he makes an 
impression favorable to his purpose. He is now upon 
the last round to put a finishing stroke to his work. I 
hope, however, before his return that that part of the 
work which he considered complete will be demolished, 
and even its foundation rooted up." 

In the meantime Tecumseh trusted Governor Harri- 
son with child-like simplicity. It seems not to have 
occurred to him that the Governor would not remain in- 
active until he had completed his - arrangements and 



i6o 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



opened the war. Indeed, there were those at Wash- 
ington who also thought this was what Harrison would 
and ought to do ; that is, keep on the defensive until 
the Indians made some outbreak. 

This was not the feeling on the frontier, however. 
The frontiersmen were in no humor to sit still and wait 
for the Indians to scalp them at their plows or burn 
them in their beds. Their cry was, "On to Tippe- 
canoe !" 

This spirit was in accord with the Governor's inclina- 
tion. A man of action, and bred to military life, Harri- 
son favored prompt, vigorous measures. He believed 
this a favorable time for an attack on the Prophet's 
town. Tecumseh was well out of the way, and had 
left orders for the tribes to remain at peace during his 
absence. As many would hesitate to disobey his com- 
mand, there would be no united resistance. Besides, the 
Prophet had been left in charge, and a victory over him 
would destroy the Indians' faith in his supernatural 
power. This faith Harrison had come to regard as the 
backbone of the Indian alliance. Moreover, the British 
were not in a position to give the Indians open assistance 
and they would learn from a few battles fought without 
their aid how little trust was to be put in British prom- 
ises. 

For these reasons, Harrison wrote to the War De- 
partment urging immediate action and asking for troops 
and authority to march against Tippecanoe. The troops 
were granted, but with the instruction that President 



THE BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE jfa 

Madison wished peace with the Indians preserved if 
possible. 



X. THE BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE 

In August, in the year 1811, Governor Harrison sent 
stern "speeches" to the Indian tribes, threatening them 
with punishment if they did not cease their preparations 
for war and comply with his demands. 

On September the twenty-fifth the Prophet's reply . 
arrived at Vincennes. He gave repeated assurances that 
the Indians had no intention of making war on the set- 
tlers, and he promised to comply with whatever demands 
the Governor might make. To this message Harrison 
sent no answer. 

The Governor was now ready for action. He had 
a force of about a thousand fighting men. The militia 
were reinforced by three hundred regulars, and one hun- 
dred and thirty mounted men, under a brave Kentuckian, 
J. H. Daveiss, who wanted a share in the glory of an 
encounter with the Indians. Later two companies of 
mounted riflemen were added to this force. Harrison 
sent a detachment of men up the river to build a fort on 
the new land. By this act he took formal possession 
of it. 

He felt his hands tied by the President's instructions 
to avoid war with the Indians if possible, and awaited 
developments with impatience. He expected the In- 
dians to oppose in some way the building of the fort — 

Four Ind. — n 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



and his expectations were at length realized. One of the 
sentinels who kept guard while the soldiers worked on 
the fort was shot and severely wounded. Harrison 
thought this might be regarded as the opening of hos- 
tilities, and determined to march upon the Prophet's town. 
A letter from the War Department received at about this 
time left him free to carry out his plans. 

It was late in October before the new fort, named 
Fort Harrison in honor of the Governor, was finished, 
and the force ready to leave. Then Harrison sent mes- 
sengers to the Prophet demanding that the Indians 
should return stolen horses to their owners, and sur- 
render Indians who had murdered white men. He also 
demanded that the Winnebagoes, Pottawottomies and 
Kickapoos who were at Tippecanoe should return to 
their tribes. Without waiting for a reply or appointing 
a time or place where the Prophet's answer might find 
him, Harrison began his march on Tippecanoe. Through 
the disputed land the armed forces marched; on, on, 
into the undisputed territory of the Indians. 

Still they met with no opposition. Not an Indian 
was seen until November the sixth, when the troops 
were within eleven miles of Tippecanoe. And although 
many of them were seen from that time on, they could 
not be tempted to any greater indiscretion than the mak- 
ing of threatening signs in response to the provok- 
ing remarks of the interpreters. When within two 
miles of Tippecanoe, Harrison found himself and his 
army in a dangerous pass that offered the Indians a 



THE BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE 



163 



most inviting chance for an ambush. But he was not 
molested. 

When the troops were safe in the open country once 
more, Harrison held a conference with his officers. All 
were eager to advance at once and attack the town. 
They held that if there was any question about the right 
or the necessity of an attack it should have been decided 
before they started; now that they had arrived at the 
stronghold of the Indians there was only one safe course, 
and that was immediate attack. 

Perhaps the circumstances of the march had per- 
suaded Harrison of the sincerity of the Indians' plan for 
peace, and he felt that after all the affair might be 
settled without bloodshed. At any rate, he was most 
reluctant to comply with the wishes of his aids. But at 
last yielding to their urgency he gave the order to ad- 
vance and storm the town. Scarcely had he done so, 
however, before he was turned from his purpose by the 
arrival of messengers from the Prophet begging that 
the difficulties be settled without a battle. Harrison 
sent back word that he had no intention of making an 
attack unless the Prophet refused to concede to his de- 
mands. He consented to suspend hostilities for the 
night and give Tenskwatawa a hearing in the morning. 

Greatly against the will of his officers, who had no 
faith in the Indians' professions of friendliness and saw 
that every hour of delay might be put to good use by the 
Prophet, Harrison encamped for the night. He seems 
to have had little fear of an attack, as he did not even 



1 64 ™E STORY OF TECUMSEH 

fortify his camp with intrenchments. But his men 
slept on their arms that night, and, although no sound 
from the Indian village disturbed the stillness, there was 
a general feeling of restlessness. 

Between four and five in the morning, in the dark 
that comes before the dawn, a sentinel's shot followed by 
the Indian yell brought every man to his feet. As 
the soldiers stood in the light of the camp fires, peering 
into the blackness with cocked muskets, they were shot 
down by savages, who rushed upon them with such force 
that they broke the line of guards and made an entrance 
into the camp. Had the number of assailants been 
greater, or had Harrison been less alert, they would 
doubtless have created a panic. But Harrison was 
already up and on the point of rousing his soldiers 
when the alarm sounded. With perfect self-possession 
he rode about where bullets were flying thickest, giving 
orders and encouraging his men. 

The brave Daveiss, having gained Harrison's con- 
sent, recklessly plunged with only a few followers into 
a thicket to dislodge some Indians who were firing upon 
the troops at close range. He was soon surrounded and 
shot down. 

The Indians fought with great persistence and kept 
up the attack for two hours, during which the troops held 
their ground with admirable firmness. As day dawned 
the Indians gradually withdrew. 

Harrison's situation was perilous. Counting killed 
and wounded he had already lost one hundred and fifty 



THE BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE jg- 

fighting men. The Indians might return at any mo- 
ment in larger numbers to attack his exhausted force. 
Provisions were low and it was cold and raining. The 
men stood at their posts through the day without food 
or fire. All day and all night the soldiers kept watch. 
The second day. the horsemen cautiously advanced to 
the town. To their relief they found it empty. The 




BATTLE OF TIPPECAXOE 



Indians had evidently fled in haste, leaving behind large 
stores of provisions. Harrison's troops helped them- 
selves to what they wanted, burned the deserted town, 
and returned to Vincennes with rapid marches. 

As a result of the battle of Tippecanoe. Harrison was 
the hero of the hour. News of the destruction of the 
Prophet's town carried cheer into every white man's 
cabin on the frontier. 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



XL REORGANIZATION OF THE INDIANS 

Of the six hundred Indians that Harrison estimated 
had taken part in the battle of Tippecanoe,, thirty-eight 
were found dead on the field. Though that was not a 
large number from a white man's point of view, the 
Indians regarded the loss of thirty-eight of their warriors 
as no light matter. 

But that was not the heaviest blow to the confedera- 
tion that Tecumseh and the Prophet had worked so hard 
to establish. Tippecanoe had been regarded with super- 
stitious veneration as the Prophet's town, a sort of holy 
city, under the special protection of the Great Spirit. 
The destruction of the town, therefore, seriously affected 
the reputation of the Prophet. 

It is hard to tell what part the Prophet played in 
the attack on Governor Harrison's forces. In their 
anxiety to escape punishment from the United States 
government many Indians who were known to have 
taken part in the battle excused their conduct by saying 
they had acted in obedience to the Prophet's direc- 
tions. They told strange stories of his urging them to 
battle with promises that the Great Spirit would protect 
them from the bullets of the enemy. 

On the other hand, the Prophet said the young men 
who would not listen to his commands were to blame 
for the trouble. 

The fact that the Indians did not follow up their ad- 
vantage over Harrison, and instead of renewing the at- 



REORGANIZATION OF THE INDIANS 167 

tack with their full force, fled from him, would indicate 
that there certainly was a large party in favor of peace. 
It seems probable that that party was made up of the 
Prophet and his most faithful followers, rather than of 
those Indians who, while pretending to be the friends 
of the United States and accusing the Prophet, admitted 
that they had done the fighting. Tenskwatawa had had 
advice from the British, and strict orders from Tecumseh 
to remain at peace, and he had shown in many ways his 
anxiety to appease Harrison and keep the Indians from 
doing violence. For some time the influence of Ten- 
skwatawa and Tecumseh had been more to restrain 
and direct than to excite the anger of the Indians 
which had been kindled by the treaty of 1809, and was 
ready to break out at any instant. It is hard, too, to 
believe that young warriors who had never been trained 
to act on the defensive could be constrained to wait 
until they were attacked, and so lose the advantage to be 
gained by surprising the enemy, or that they could be 
made to withdraw without striking a blow. 

But however blameless the Prophet may have been, he 
suffered for a time, as Harrison had supposed he w T ould. 
He was the scapegoat on whom all placed the responsi- 
bility for the battle of Tippecanoe. Even Tecumseh is 
said to have rebuked him bitterly for not holding the 
young men in check. 

That Tecumseh disapproved of the affair is evident 
from the answer he sent the British, who advised him 
to avoid further encounters with the Americans : 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



"You tell us to retreat or turn to one side should the 
Big Knives come against us. Had I been at home in 
the late unfortunate affair I should have done so; but 
those I left at home were — I cannot call them men — 
a poor set of people, and their scuffle with the Big Knives 
I compared to a struggle between little children who only- 
scratch each other's faces." 




INDIANS THREATENING "THE PROPHET" 



In the spring, Tecumseh presented himself at Vin- 
cennes saying that he was now ready to go to Washing- 
ton to visit the President. The Governor, however, 
gave him a cold welcome, telling him that if he went he 
must go alone. Tecumseh's pride was hurt and he re- 
fused to go unless he could travel in a style suited to 
the dignity of a great chief, the leader of the red men. 



REORGANIZATION OF THE INDIANS 



Harrison soon learned that the brothers were again 
at Tippecanoe, with their loyal followers, rebuilding the 
village and strengthening their forces. 

In April, 1812, a succession of horrible murders on 
the frontier alarmed the settlers. A general uprising of 
the Indians was expected daily. The militiamen refused 
to leave their families unprotected. The Governor was 
unable to secure the protection of the United States 
troops. Panic spread along the border ; whole districts 
were unpeopled. Men, women, and children hastened 
to the forts or even to Kentucky for safety. There was 
fear that Vincennes would be overpowered. 

Had the Indians chosen this time to strike, they could 
have done terrible mischief. But Tecumseh's voice was 
still for peace. At a council held in May, he said : 

"Governor Harrison made war on my people in my 
absence; it was the will of God that he should do so. 
We hope it will please the Great Spirit that the white 
people may let us live in peace. We will not disturb 
them, neither have we done it, except when they come 
to our village with the intention of destroying us. We 
are happy to state to our brothers present that the unfor- 
tunate transaction that took place between the white 
people and a few of our young men at our village, has 
been settled between us and Governor Harrison; and I 
will further state that had I been at home there would 
have been no bloodshed at that time. 



i ;o 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



"It is true, we have endeavored to give all our broth- 
ers good advice, and if they have not listened to it we are 
sorry for it. "YVe defy a living creature to say we 
ever advised any one, directly or indirectly, to make war 
on our white brothers. It has constantly been our mis- 
fortune to have our view misrepresented to our white 
brothers. This has been done by the Pottawottomies 
and others who sell to the white people land that does not 
belong to them." 

XII. TECUMSEH AND THE BRITISH 

Greatly as Tecumseh wished the Indians to remain at 
peace with the citizens of the United States, he saw that 
it was impossible for them to do so unless they were 
willing to give up their lands. The British, meanwhile, 
promised to regain for the Indians all the land north of 
the Ohio River and east of the Alleghany Mountains. 
They roused in the heart of Tecumseh the hope that the 
old boundaries between the territory of the Indians and 
the territory of the white man would be reestablished. 
When war broke out in 1812, between Great Britain 
and the United States, Tecumseh joined the British at 
Maiden. In making this alliance he was not influenced 
by any kindly feeling toward the British. He simply did 
what seemed to him for the best interests of the Indians. 

At the outset, fortune favored the British flag. Fort 
Mackinac, in northern Michigan, fell into the hands of 
a force of British and Indians. Detroit was surrendered 



TECUMSEH AND THE BRITISH 



171 



to General Brock without resistance. Fort Dearborn, at 
Chicago, was burned and its garrison was massacred by 
the Indians. The English seemed in a fair way to fulfill 
their promise of driving the American settlers from the 
Northwest. Fort Harrison and Fort Wayne were the 



j 




FORT DETROIT IN 1812 

only strongholds of importance left to guard the fron- 
tier. These forts Tecumseh planned to take by stratagem. 

The victories of the British won to their side the 
tribes that had hesitated, and hundreds of warriors 
flocked to the standard of Tecumseh, He became an 
important and conspicuous figure in the war. His brav- 



172 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



ery, his knowledge of the country, and his large follow- 
ing made it possible for him to give his allies invaluable 
aid. Without Tecumseh and his Indians the British 
war in the West would have been a slight affair. 

The Americans fitted out a large military force to 
retake Detroit, and overthrow the Indians who threat- 
ened the settlements. General Harrison was put in com- 
mand of the expedition. He set out with his army in 
grand array, but was unable to reach Detroit because of 
the swampy condition of the land over which he must 
march. He was forced to camp on the Maumee River. 
His advance into the territory of the Indians thwarted 
the enterprise that Tecumseh had set on foot against Fort 
Wayne. 

While Harrison was encamped at Fort Meigs there 
were several encounters between the hostile forces. A 
division of Harrison's army, under General Winchester, 
having allowed itself to become separated from the main 
army, was attacked on the River Raisin by a party of 
British and Indians. After a fierce struggle the rem- 
nant of General Winchester's force surrendered to the 
British. In the absence of Tecumseh many of the pris- 
oners were cruelly massacred by the Indian victors. 

Major Richardson's description of General Winches- 
ter's men gives us a good idea of the hardihood of the 
frontier soldiers, and shows us how they came to be 
called "Long Knives" by the Indians: 

"It was the depth of winter; but scarcely an indi- 
vidual was in possession of a great coat or cloak, and 



TECUMSEH AND THE BRITISH 



173 



few of them wore garments of wool of any description. 
They still retained their summer dress, consisting of cot- 
ton stuff of various colors shaped into frocks, and de- 
scending to the knee. Their trousers were of the same 
material. They were cov- 
ered with slouched hats, 
worn bare by constant 
use, beneath which their 
long hair fell matted and 
uncombed over their 
cheeks; and these, to- 
gether with the dirty 
blankets wrapped round 
their loins to protect them 
against the inclemency of 
the season, and fastened 
by broad leathern belts, 
into which were thrust 
axes and knives of an 
enormous length, gave 
them an air of wildness 
and savageness." 

Later, General Proc- one of the -long knives" 
tor, who had succeeded General Brock in command of 
the British forces at Detroit, laid siege to Fort Meigs, 
Tecumseh, who took part in the siege, was anxious to 
meet the enemy in open country. He sent the following 
unceremonious challenge to his old acquaintance : 

"General Harrison: I have with me eight hundred 




j 7 4 THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 

braves. You have an equal number in your hiding place. 
Come out with them and give me battle. You talked 
like a brave when we met at Vincennes, and I respected 
you ; but now you hide behind logs and in the earth, like 
a ground-hog. Give me answer. Tecumseh." 

When Harrison did venture to send out a detach- 
ment it was beaten by the Indians, and many of the 
Americans were made prisoners. For all the -effort Gen- 
eral Proctor made to prevent it, a terrible massacre might 
have followed this victory. Just as the Indians had 
begun to murder the prisoners, Tecumseh rode upon 
the scene of slaughter. When he saw what was going 
on he exclaimed in a passion of regret and indignation, 
"Oh, what will become of my Indians !" He rushed into 
the midst of the savages, rescued the man they were be- 
ginning to torture, and, with uplifted tomahawk, dared 
the whole horde to touch another prisoner. They cowered 
before him, deeply ashamed of their conduct. 

On discovering that General Proctor was present, 
Tecumseh demanded impatiently why he had not inter- 
fered to prevent the massacre. General Proctor an- 
swered that Tecumseh's Indians could not be controlled. 
To this Tecumseh responded with scorn : "Say, rather, 
you are unable to command. Go put on petticoats." 

In September, 1813, Commodore Perry's splendid 
victories on Lake Erie gave to the Americans control of 
the Lakes, and this made it impossible for the British to 
hold Detroit and Maiden. Harrison was advancing with 
a land force to take these towns and General Proctor was 



TECUMSEH AND THE BRITISH 



175 



eager to get out of his way. He began to prepare for 
retreat, but tried to conceal his purpose from Tecumseh. 
The latter' s suspicions were aroused, however, and he 
demanded a council, in which he made his last formal 
speech. He spoke boldly and bitterly against General 
Proctor's course. He said : 

"You always told us you would never draw your 
foot off British ground ; but now, father, we see that you 
are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father 
doing so without seeing the enemy. We must compare 
our father's conduct to a fat dog that carries its tail on 
its back, but when affrighted it drops it between its legs 
and runs off. Father, listen ! The Americans have 
not yet defeated us by land; neither are we sure they 
have done so by water ; we therefore wish to remain here 
and fight our enemy, should they make their appearance. 
If they defeat us we will retreat with our father. * * * 
We now see our British father preparing to march 
out of his stronghold. Father, you have the arms and 
ammunition which our great father sent to his red chil- . 
dren. If you have an idea of going away, give them 
to us and you may go and welcome. For us, our lives 
are in the hands of the Great Spirit. We are determined 
to defend our lands, and if it be His will, we wish to 
leave our bones upon them." 

Notwithstanding the wish of Tecumseh, General 
Proctor kept his purpose to retreat. He promised, how- 
ever, that if they were pursued by the Americans he 
would turn at the first favorable site and give them bat- 



176 



THE STORY OF TECUMSEH 



tie. Accordingly, Tecumseh accompanied the retreat- 
ing General. He repeatedly urged Proctor to keep his 
promise and face the enemy. On the fifth of October, 
Proctor learned that the American forces were at his 
heels. Valor, therefore, seemed the better part of discre- 
tion, and, choosing a ridge between the Thames River 
and a swamp, he arranged his forces for battle. 

Colonel Richard M. Johnson managed the charge of 
the Americans. One division of his regiment, under 
command of his brother, attacked and quickly routed the 
British regulars under General Proctor. The other divi- 
sion he himself led against Tecumseh's Indians. 

The Indians waited under protection of the thick 
brush until the horsemen were within close range; then 
in response to Tecumseh's war cry all fired. Johnson's 
advance guard was nearly cut clown. The horses could 
not advance. Johnson ordered his men to dismount 
and a terrible struggle followed. Soon Tecumseh was 
shot, and, the Indians missing him, gave up the battle and 
fled. One of them afterwards described the defeat in a 
few words : " Tecumseh fell and we all ran." 

The war was now ended in the Northwest. The 
Americans had regained the posts taken by the British; 
they had subdued the Indians, and gained possession of 
the lands in the Wabash Valley. The power of the 
Prophet was destroyed. Tecumseh was dead. The Long 
Knives had crushed forever the Confederacy of Tecumseh, 
but it had taken upward of five million dollars and an 
army of twenty thousand men to do it. 



THE STORY OF 

OSCEOLA 

BY 

FRANCES M. PERRY 



Four Ind.- — ±2 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



I. THE EXODUS OF THE RED STICKS 

The sun was low in the west and sent long shafts of 
light across the tops of the trees that bordered a quiet, 
shining lake in northern Florida. It shone upon a com- 
pany of Indians who were straggling along the shore, 
and made their bright turbans and many colored calicoes 
look gay in spite of dirt and tatters. 

The company was a large one. In it were not only 
braves, but also squaws and pappooses, and a few negroes. 
They trooped along with the unhurried swiftness and 
easy disarray of men and women who have journeyed 
for many days and have many days of travel still before 
them. 

Here and there a strapping brave bestrode a horse, 
while his squaw trudged beside him, sharing with a 
black slave the burden of household goods. But for 
the most part ceremony had given way to necessity and 
the warriors went afoot, leaving the horses and mules 
to carry the old men, aged squaws, and young children, 
who were too feeble to walk. 

This was a band of Red Stick Indians who had left 
forever the camping grounds of their fathers on the 
Chattahoochee River, to escape the oppression of their 

179 



i8o 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



powerful kinsmen, the Creek Indians. They had re- 
belled against the rule of the Creeks., because the Creeks 
refused them their share of plunder in battle, and laid 
claim to their lands and their slaves. The Red Sticks 

A. 




. ' ' , CREEK INDIANS 

; v : ? hated the Creeks so bitterly that 
- " they o">iud no longer live near 

^mS^^^^^S'''^'' them. They were resolved to 
leave altogether the territory that the 
■ - United States government recognized 

fr< -' - .7v>.^i&- as belonging to the Creeks, and seek 
homes with the Seminoles or runaways in Florida. 

The Red Sticks had left the Creek country far behind 
them, and had arrived, as we have seen, in northern 
Florida. The land into which they had come was un- 
cultivated, wild, and sweet. The lakes and rivers were 
full of fish; the forests were full of game: fruits and 
berries grew in abundance. Everything seemed to in- 
vite the wanderers to tarry there and build themselves 
homes. Still they marched on over rich brown fields, 
past dancing lakes and streams, over fertile hillsides 



THE EXODUS OF THE RED STICKS 181 

shaded with live oak and magnolia. No spot, however 
beautiful, could induce them to pause for more than a 
few days' rest. Their object was not to find a pleasant 
camping ground but to escape the hated Creeks. They 
were bound for a distant swamp. On the borders of the 
Okefinokee marsh they planned to make their homes. 
There they would be reasonably safe from the enemy, 
and even if the Creeks should follow them there, the 
swamp would afford them a secure retreat. 

But this goal was still many miles away, and the 
fugitives were now pressing toward a little hill, where 
they expected to make a short halt. 

The young men were silent but alert. Now and 
again one raised his bow and brought down a goose or a 
wild turkey, and some youngster plunged into the thicket 
to find it and fetch it to his mother. Here and there 
were groups of women burdened with kettles and pans 
and bundles of old clothes, or carrying small children 
and raising a great clamor of chatter and laughter. 

A little apart from the main company a tall and hand- 
some Indian woman plodded silently along by herself. 
The splendor of her kerchief had been faded by sun and 
rain; her skirts were torn by briers, but the necklace of 
silver beads wound many times about her throat retained 
its glory. On one hip rested a huge basket, packed and 
corded. Astride the other rode a sturdy-limbed boy of 
about four years of age. Nearly all day the child had 
run by her side Without complaint. But toward evening 
he had begun to lag behind, until at last, when, after a 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



good run, he caught up with his mother, he clutched her 
skirts to help himself along. Then she had stooped and 
picked him up with a sort of fierce tenderness and in a 
moment he had fallen asleep. 

Soon the Indians reached the hilltop where they were 
to camp for a few days. Their preparations for the 
night's rest consisted chiefly in building camp fires; for, 
though the days were warm, the nights were chilly. Be- 
sides, fires were needed to cook food and to keep the 
wild beasts away during the darkness. A small fire of 
light brush was made first. Then several large logs were 
placed about it, each with one end in the flame, so that 
they looked like the spokes of a great wheel radiating 
from a center of fire. As the ends of the logs burned 
away, the fiery ring at the center grew wider and dimmer. 
When a hotter fire was wanted, the logs were pushed 
toward the center till the glowing ends came together 
once more and burned briskly. 

On the morning after the Red Sticks went into camp 
on the hill, while others lounged and talked together, the 
woman wearing the necklace of silver beads still kept 
apart. She sat on the unburned end of a fire log and 
for a time paid no heed to the question her small son had 
repeated many times. At last she looked up and said: 
"Do not ask again about the baby with the blue eyes. Do 
not think of her. She does not cry for you. She plays 
with little Creek pappooses. She is not your sister any 
more. Go, play at shooting turkeys with black Jim. He 
loves you like a brother." 



THE FLORIDA HOME 



183 



The woman was the daughter of a chief. She had 
married a man of her own tribe, but after lie fell in battle 
she married a Scotch trader, named Powell, who lived 
among the Creeks. When the time came for the flight 
of the Red Sticks her heart turned to her people. She 
enjoyed too much the glory of being a trader's wife to 
give up her position and her home without much bitter- 
ness. But she was too true an Indian to desert her 
tribe. As her husband had no notion of leaving his 
trading station among the Creeks, she had left him and 
her blue-eyed baby and had come with her kindred, bring- 
ing with her her little son, a true Indian, the child of her 
first husband. 

The boy played at shooting wild turkeys with black 
Jim that day, and many times afterward. As time passed 
he thought less and less of the blue-eyed sister and more 
and more of his comrade with a black skin. 



II. THE FLORIDA HOME 

These Red Sticks were not the first wanderers who 
had sought homes and safety in Florida. For some 
fifty years bands of Indians enticed by the rich hunting 
grounds, or driven by the persecutions of the Creeks, 
had left their kindred in Georgia and Alabama to try 
their fortunes in Florida. 

They had found other tribes in possession of the 
peninsula, but the newcomers were more warlike and 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



soon made themselves and their claim to the land re- 
spected by the natives. Indeed, the immigrants soon 

.am : : ' : 1< 'ke'.l upon a- 
. ^ the ruling people. They 
were called Seminoles, 
" . which means runaways. 

The Seminoles would 
not attend Creek councils. 
They refused to be bound 
by treaties made by the 




SEMINOLE INDIANS 

Creeks. In all ways they wished to be considered a 
separate and distinct people. 



THE FLORIDA HOME ^5 

Among the Florida Indians there lived a people of 
another race, the Maroons or free negroes. In those days 
Florida was owned by Spain. Therefore, American 
slaves once safely within its borders were free men. They 
became Spanish subjects and their former masters had 
no power to reclaim them. Florida formed a convenient 
refuge, and slaves were sure of welcome there, especially 
if they were willing to exchange a white master for a 
red one. Most negroes were glad to do this, for the 
slaves of the Indians were happy, independent slaves. 
Their chief duty to their masters was to raise for them 
a few bushels of corn each year. Though the Indians 
in general regarded themselves as superior to the negroes, 
the two races of exiles felt strong sympathy and affection 
for each other. They lived in the same manner, observ- 
ing common customs. They fought together against 
a common enemy. They even intermarried. 

But the country was extensive and only thinly set- 
tled; and so, notwithstanding the frequent increase of 
their force by Indians and negroes, warriors were still 
more valuable than land in the eyes of the Seminoles. 
The tribe of Red Sticks that went to Florida in 1808 
was received with great friendliness. 

The Indian woman with the silver beads soon married 
another brave, and went to live on a "hammock" near 
Fort King, not far from the place where Ocala now 
stands. She took with her her son. He was called 
Powell by some who remembered his stepfather, the 
trader. But his mother called him Osceola, which means 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



the rising sun. Osceola grew up loving Florida as his 
home. And, indeed, it was a home that any Indian 
might have loved. 

The climate was healthful for the Indians, and so 
warm and pleasant that clothing was a matter of small 
concern. The soil was rich, and corn and koontee were 
to be had in abundance. The forests were full of deer 
and small game. 

A few skins thrown over some poles afforded suffi- 
cient protection for ordinary weather. But if rains made 
a more substantial dwelling necessary the palmetto fur- 
nished material for posts, elevated floor, and thatched 
roof. 

Not least among the advantages of the Florida home 
were its wonderful waterways leading off through dense 
mysterious forests, where strange birds called and strange 
plants grew — a labyrinth full of danger for the intruder, 
but a safe and joyous retreat for the Seminole floating 
on the dark water in his dugout. 

Though the Indians could have lived comfortably 
in this country without much effort, the Seminoles did 
not choose to live in idleness. They saw the flourishing 
farms of the Spanish settlers and wished to have farms 
of their own. 

So it happened that when Osceola was a boy he saw 
the Indians around him make the beginnings of what 
they believed would be permanent homes. He saw them 
cultivate the soil and tend their herds of cattle and horses 
and hogs. He watched them build their dwellings and 



THE FLORIDA HOME 



l8 7 



storehouses — palmetto lodges without walls for them- 
selves, substantial log cribs for their corn and potatoes. 

When a child, he imitated not only the warriors and 
hunters, but made cornfields of sand with tall grass spears 
for cornstalks, and built "camps 1 ' and corncribs out of 
little sticks. 




FISHING WITH A SPEAR 



As he grew older he often hoed the corn and ground 
the koontee and drove the cattle. He did cheerfully the 
work of a farmer, though he liked best to hunt and fish 
and explore. He had a strong boat made by burning out 
the heart of a large cypress log. In this he often glided 
swiftly and noiselessly down some stream where the sal- 
mon trout lived. He held in his right hand a tough 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



spear, made of a charred reed with a barbed end. When 
he saw a fish almost as large as himself close at hand 
he hurled his harpoon at it with all his force. And the 
fish darted off, leaving a trail of crimson in the clear water 
and dragging the boat behind it; for the boy clung to 
the end of the spear and soused the wounded fish in the 
water until its strength was exhausted. Then with the 
help of a friend he dragged it into the boat, and began 
to watch for another fish. 

Osceola was so energetic that he enjoyed work for its 
own sake. He had unusual endurance, and could keep at 
work or play long after others were tired. He was a 
famous ball player, and distinguished himself at the green 
corn dances. There he drank without flinching such large 
draughts of the bitter "black drink" that he was nick- 
named by some "Asseola," which means "black drink." 

Once when acting as a guide for a party of Spanish 
horsemen he asked them why they rode so slowly. They 
told him that as he was unmounted they traveled easily 
to accommodate him. He laughed and replied that they 
might go as fast as they liked, they would hear no com- 
plaint from him. At this they spurred their horses to 
a livelier pace. Then seeing that Osceola still seemed to 
be making little effort they rode faster and faster to test 
his swiftness and strength. They were soon convinced 
that the young Indian had made no idle boast, and rode 
the entire day as if all the members of the party had had 
horses. When they reached the end of their journey 
Osceola seemed less tired than the horsemen. 



THE FIRST SEMINOLE WAR x g 9 

Osceola was not only active and enduring. He was 
also generous and helpful. His bright face, his frank 
manner, and true kindness made him a great favorite with 
all who knew him, Indians, negroes, or white men. 



III. THE FIRST SEMINOLE WAR 

When Osceola was a light-hearted boy of twelve, with 
kind impulses toward every one, something happened to 
rouse in him a bitter hatred, a thirst for blood. 

During the War of 1812 large numbers of negroes in 
the South took advantage of the general excitement to 
make good their escape from bondage. The Indians wel- 
comed them and shielded them from bands of slave hunt- 
ers that made sallies into the Spanish territory for the 
purpose of recapturing them. In this the Indians were 
aided by the British, who saw an opportunity to make 
trouble for the republic on its southern border, while 
the United States troops were occupied on the Canadian 
frontier. A British agent built a strong fort on Spanish 
soil on the Appalachicola River. After the close of the 
war the British withdrew and left the fort, well filled 
with ammunition, in the hands of the Indians and ne- 
groes. 

The Seminoles and their negro friends rejoiced over 
this. They could not foresee the doom that this fort 
was to bring upon them. 

For many years the Southern people had complained 



I90 THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 

bitterly against the Seminole Indians for ''stealing," as 
they said, their slaves. The "stealing" consisted in re- 
ceiving and protecting runaways. The feeling against 
the Indians was so strong that expeditions into Spanish 
territory had been made by people on the frontier to 
capture slaves and punish the Seminoles. But this fort 
would now be a hindrance to such forays, and the slave- 
holders demanded that it should be destroyed. They 
were so persistent in their demands that General Andrew 
Jackson gave General Gaines directions to invade Span- 
ish territory with United States troops to blow up the 
fort and return the "stolen negroes" to their rightful 
owners. 

For miles up and down the Appalachicola River the 
land along the banks was cultivated and divided into 
small farms, where Indians and negroes lived. When 
these farmers learned of the approach of the enemy they 
fled with their wives and children to the fort for pro- 
tection. Over three hundred men, women, and children 
crowded into the fort, feeling sure of safety. But when 
the troops attacked them by land and water, and the 
cannon roared about the walls of the fort, they were panic- 
stricken. The women and children shrieked and wrung 
their hands. The men did not know what to do; they 
rent the air with fearful yells, but made little attempt at 
resistance. What would they not have given to exchange 
the fort walls for an open boat and the endless waterways 
of the forest? 

They were not left long to fear and regret. The 



THE FIRST SEMINOLE WAR IC;I 

enemy promptly accomplished its purpose. A redhot 
ball reached the powder magazine of the fort. A terrible 
explosion followed, destroying- the fort and bringing 
instant death to two hundred and seventy of its in- 
mates. 

The story of the horrible death, of the mutilated 
bodies of the injured men carried off on the boats of the 
white men, spread all over Florida. At every camp fire 
the tale was told, and all the old savage thirst for ven- 
geance was stirred in the hearts of men who had begun to 
care for crops and herds and to dream of days of peace. 

The Indians knew that peace with the white man was 
best for them. But Indian blood had been shed and peace 
was impossible. Preparations began at once for what 
was afterward known in history as the First Seminole 
War. The Indians bought arms and powder from Span- 
ish and British traders. They practised shooting. They 
explored the country for safe retreats and excellent am- 
bushes. They raised their crops and harvested them. A 
year passed before the first stroke of vengeance fell. 

A boat carrying supplies to Fort Scott was surprised 
by Indians, and its crew, passengers, and military escort 
were overpowered and killed. The War Department had 
been expecting some hostile act on the part of the Sem- 
inoles, and was ready for war. The massacre in the 
vicinity of Fort Scott is usually regarded as the cause of 
the war of 1818, though it was not without its cause, as 
has been shown. 

General Jackson promptly invaded Florida with a 



192 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



strong force of United States troops and Creek Indians, 
to punish the Seminoles. He was met by a motley crowd 
of Indians and negroes. Even children joined their 
fathers to resist the approach of the whites and Creeks. 
Though they did not present an imposing appearance, the 

Florida Indians and their 
allies proved to be desper- 
ate fighters. 

General Jackson first 
moved against the settle- 
ments on the Appalachi- 
cola. The Indians and 
negroes made a stand and 
fought a battle, but were 
obliged to retreat. Jack- 
son then secured the pro- 
visions the Indians had 
stored there, burned the 
villages and pushed on to 
St. Marks and then to the 
Andrew jackson valley of the Suwanee. 

On this march he was much troubled by Indians who 
hung along his path, making frequent swift attacks and 
then vanishing in the wilderness. At Old Town a battle 
was fought in which the Maroons gave the Indians brave 
assistance. Here again the forces of Jackson were vic- 
torious. After suffering heavy losses, the Indians and 
their allies retreated. They were pursued by a detach- 
ment of Jackson's men and driven far to the south. 




THE FIRST SEMINOLE WAR T93 

The Indians had taken the precaution to move the 
negro women and children out of reach of the American 
army, fearing that they would be captured and carried 
back into slavery, but they had been less careful to conceal 
their own squaws and pappooses, and Jackson made hun- 
dreds of them captives. 

The battle of Old Town closed the war. Jackson, 
feeling that the Indians had been thoroughly beaten, 
withdrew from Florida, leaving fire and desolation in his 
track. 

The boy Osceola, strong and straight, and with the 
spirit of an eagle, had played a man's part in the war. 
He combined with the reckless courage of youth a deter- 
mination that made him capable of good service in Indian 
warfare. He was a good scout and an unexcelled mes- 
senger. Swift and light, and sure as the arrow he shot 
from his bow, he had carried signals from chief to chief, 
he had crept as a spy past the pickets of the enemy, he 
had acted as runner and guide, taking women and chil- 
dren from exposed villages to the secret recesses of the 
forest. Nor had his youth exempted him from doing 
the more deadly work of war. 

The Seminoles had lost heavily in the war, but as a 
nation they had gained some things of great value. The 
hardships they had suffered together gave the various 
tribes a stronger feeling of fellowship than they had had 
before. Black men had fought shoulder to shoulder with 
red, and would henceforth be less their inferiors and more 
their friends. 

Four Ind. — 13 



194 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



IV. GRIEVANCES 

Not many days passed after General Jackson with- 
drew his army from Florida before the Seminoles were 
again established on the fertile lands from which they 
had been driven. They brought with them their flocks 
and herds. Before long their simple dwellings were re- 
built and the Seminole villages seemed as prosperous as 
ever. 

The slaveholders of the South felt that Florida was 
still a dangerous neighbor. They saw that to mend 
matters it was necessary that Florida should be made a 
part of the United States in order that the government 
should have authority over the Seminoles. So, in the 
year 1821, through the influence of Southern statesmen 
the territory of Florida was purchased from Spain for 
five million dollars. 

Now that the people of the United States owned 
Florida they wished to occupy the land, but the Seminoles 
(claimed it. Many were unwilling to recognize the jus- 
tice of this claim, however ; for it was held that as the 
Indians were not native tribes but were Creeks they 
should be compelled to go back to Georgia and live with 
their kindred. 

This proposal gave the Indians great alarm. They 
expected momentarily that an attempt would be made 
to expel them from their homes. By spreading a report 
that Jackson was coming to seize their property and 
drive them back to live with the Creeks, bands of lawless 



GRIEVANCES 



195 



men created such a panic among the Indians that they 
fled into the forests and swamps, leaving their provisions 
and property for the plunderers to carry off. 

Border troubles increased until action could not be 
postponed longer. A council was called at Camp Moultrie 
in 1823, where a treaty was made between the United 
States government and the Seminole Indians. 

By the terms of this treaty the Indians were to give 
up all their land north of the Withlacoochee River, ex- 
cept a few tracts reserved for chiefs. They were bound 
to stay within the limits of the lands assigned them, and 
if found in the northern part of the territory without 
passports were to suffer thirty-nine stripes on the bare 
back, and give up their firearms. They were also pledged 
to assist in recapturing fugitive slaves, who in the future 
should seek refuge among them. 

In return for what they had given up the Seminoles 
were to receive from the United States at once, provisions 
for one year and six thousand dollars worth of cattle and 
hogs ; and for twenty years thereafter, an annuity of five 
thousand dollars was to be paid to them. They were also 
assured that their rights would be protected. The United 
States promised "to take the Florida Indians under their 
care and patronage, and afford them protection against 
all persons whatsoever," and to "restrain and prevent all 
white persons from hunting, settling, or otherwise intrud- 
ing, upon said lands." 

The effects of this treaty were neither beneficial nor 
lasting. The Indians were moved from their homes 



196 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



to the southern part of the peninsula, where the land 
was poor. While they had once been happy and pros- 
perous, they now became miserable and destitute, and 
dependent on the annual allowance from the government. 
The lands they relinquished were soon occupied by white 
settlers, and the red men and the white were again neigh- 
bors. Of course, the border troubles were renewed. The 
white men would never be satisfied until the Indians were 
expelled from the peninsula altogether. 

The Indians were aware that the white settlers were 
eager to have them sent away. They tried to keep peace 
and avoid trouble. If any of their number violated the 
treaty, the Indians punished him themselves, even inflict- 
ing the ignominious thirty-nine stripes. The white men, 
however, were bent on making mischief. Indeed, one 
of the lawmakers of the Territory said frankly: "The 
only course, therefore, which remains for us to rid our- 
selves of them, is to adopt such a mode of treatment to- 
wards them as will induce them to acts that will justify 
their expulsion by force.'' 

The Indians had yielded many points for the sake of 
peace, but they were determined not to leave Florida. 
They believed that if they could abide by the terms of 
the treaty of Camp Moultrie for its full period of twenty 
years the United States government would admit their 
right to stay in Florida permanently. 

Osceola was most active in trying to preserve peace. 
He had now grown to manhood. He had married 
Morning-Dew, the daughter of a chief, and they were 



GRIEVANCES 



197 



living together happily near Fort King. Osceola was 
not a chief, but he was well known and liked among the 
Indians. He used his influence to keep the rash young 
men from violating the treaty. He wished to see the 
Seminoles do their full duty to the white people, not be- 
cause he was fond 
of the white race, 
but because he 
thought it well for 
the Indians that 
the peace should 
not be broken. 

His eagerness 
to keep the Indians 
in order made him 
greatly liked at 
Fort King. His 
services were often 
demanded there as 
guide or informer. 
But while he made 
every effort to keep 
the Indians from 
.doing wrong, he did not think the white men blameless 
and said so frankly. He accused them of failure to pun- 
ish men who were guilty of committing crimes against 
the Indians, of unfairness in seizing negroes, of theft of 
property, and of withholding annuities. Osceola's was a 
good kind of patriotism — he did not consider his enemies 




OSCEOLA 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



right, but he wanted his own people to be right, and 
did his best to make them so. 

But Indians, who are by nature revengeful, could not 
be expected to endure wrongs without some retaliation. 
Their complaints of injustice were met by the proposi- 
tion that they move beyond the Mississippi, out of the 
white man's reach. 

The nature of their grievances is clearly shown in a 
"talk" which Chief John Hicks sent to the President in 
January, 1829. He said: 

a * * * are a n Seminoles here together. We 
want no long talk; we wish to have it short and good. 
We are Indians and the whites think we have no sense; 
but what our minds are, we wish to have our big father 
know. 

"When I returned from Washington, all my war- 
riors were scattered — in attempting to gather my people 
I had to spill blood midway in my path. I had supposed 
that the Micanopy people had done all the mischief, and 
I went with my warriors to meet the Governor with two. 
When I met the Governor at Suwanee he seemed to be 
afraid; I shook hands with him. I gathered all my 
people and found that none was missing, and that the 
mischief had been done by others. The Governor had 
them put in prison. I was told that if one man kills an- 
other we must not kill any other man in his place, but 
find the person who committed the murder and kill him. 
One of my people was killed and his murderer's bones are 
now white at Tallahassee. Another one that had done 



GRIEVANCES 



I 99 



us mischief was killed at Alpaha. A black man living 
among the whites has killed one of my people and I 
wish to know who is to give me redress. Will my big 
father answer? When our law is allowed to operate, 
we are quick ; but they say the black man is subject to the 
laws of the white people; now I want to see if the white 
people do as they say. We wish our big father to say 
whether he will have the black man tried for the murder 
of one of our people. If he will give him up to us, the 
sun shall not move before he has justice done to him. 
We work for justice as well as the white people do. I 
wish my friend and father to answer. In answer we 
may receive a story, for men going backwards and for- 
wards have not carried straight talks. 

"I agreed to send away all the black people who had 
no masters, and I have done it ; but still they are sending 
to me for negroes. When an Indian has bought a black 
man they come and take him away again, so that we 
have no money and no negroes, too. A white man sells 
us a negro and then turns around and claims him again, 
and our father orders us to give him up. There is a 
negro girl in Charleston that belongs to my daughter — 
her name is Patience. I want her restored to me. She 
has a husband here; she has a child about a year old. 
I want my big father to cause them to be sent to me, to do 
as he compels me to do, when I have just claims. If 
my father is a true friend, he will send me my property 
by our agent, who has gone to Washington. I have 
been told by the Governor that all runaway negroes must 



200 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



be given up, but that all those taken in war, were good 
property to us ; but they have taken away those taken in 
war, and those we have raised from children. * * * 
"Will my father listen now to the voice of his chil- 
dren? He told me we were to receive two thousand dol- 
lars' worth of corn — where is it? We have received 
scarcely any, not even half, according to our judgment, 
of what was intended for us. If the Governor and 
the white people have done justly in this we wish our 
big father to let us know. We were promised presents 
for twenty-one years ; we have received nothing but a 
few promises. It seems that they have disappeared 
before they reached us, or that our big father di'd not in- 
tend to give them to us. We were promised money, but 
we have not received a cent for this year. What has 
become of it? We wish our big father to ask the Gov- 
ernor. The white people say that we owe them, which 
is not true. We did take some goods of an Indian trader, 
Mr. Marsh, to whom the Governor had promised part 
of our money. We took the goods because we were 
afraid we should never get what was ours in any other 
way; they amounted to fifteen hundred dollars. We 
understand that Mr. Bellamy has received from the Gov- 
ernor sixteen hundred dollars; what is it for? The In- 
dians do not owe him anything, — he has lost no property 
by us, — we have taken none of his cattle. If a tiger has 
killed one, it is charged to the Indians. If they stray away 
and are lost for a time, it is charged to the Indians. He 
has lost nothing by us ; but my people have suffered loss 



GRIEVANCES 



20I 



from him. He has taken all the Indians' hogs that he 
could lay his hands on. * * * He has taken hogs — 
one hundred head — from one man. We can not think of 
giving away sixteen hundred dollars for nothing. Ac- 
cording to the white man's laws, if a man takes that 
which does not belong to him, he has to return it and 
pay for the damages. Will our great father see that 
this man restores to us what he has unjustly taken from 
us, for we look to our big father to fulfill his promises 
and give us the presents and money that are due to us. 
We understand that Colonel Piles has received some of 
the money that is due to us ; he is a good man ; when we 
were perishing with hunger he gave us to eat and drink. 
He is entitled to what he has received. It appears that 
the Seminoles who have done no mischief, have to suffer, 
as well as the few that have been guilty — this does not 
appear to be right to us. By stopping our money, the 
Governor has prevented our paying just debts, the debts 
we owe to the licensed Indian traders, who have trusted 
us under the expectation that we would pay them when 
we received our money. Our father has put two agents 
to look over us ; our agent, Colonel Humphries, has not 
seen any of the money or presents that belong to us. 

"I am getting to be very old, and I wish my bones 
to be here. I do not wish to remove to any other land, 
according to what I told my father. When great men 
say anything to each other, they should have good mem- 
ories. Why does Colonel White plague me so much 



2G2 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



about going over the Mississippi ? We hurt nothing on 
this land. I have told him so before." 



V. THE TREATY OF PAYNE'S LANDING 

One day when Osceola was at Fort King he was 
told that a great council was to be held at Payne's Land- 
ing, about twenty miles from the fort. The Indians' 
" white father " had sent special messengers to talk with 
the Seminoles, and all the leading men of the nation were 
summoned to come to hear his words. 

Osceola knew that the message was about the Sem- 
inoles' leaving Florida. He was bitterly opposed to that 
project. He knew that some of the old chiefs were very 
easily influenced, and that the white men had a way 
of getting them to make promises in council which they 
afterwards regretted. He therefore wished that none of 
the Indians would attend the council. Then no action 
could be taken. 

He went around advising men not to go to Payne's 
Landing. But the white men sent their messengers 
near and far, calling in the chiefs and head men. Early 
in May the streams were full of canoes and the forest 
paths were traveled by bands of Indians on their way to 
Payne's Landing. Seeing this, Osceola decided to go to 
the council himself, and do what he could there to prevent 
the chiefs from making any rash agreements. 

Osceola was not a chief, but he was a recognized leader 



THE TREATY OF PAYNE'S LANDING 203 

of the young men, and as he sat in the council house, stern 
and alert, many a glance was cast in his direction to see 
how he was impressed by the white man's talk. 

He listened to the interpreter eagerly and learned 
that the President wished the Seminoles to give up the 
land that had been reserved for them by the treaty of 
Camp Moultrie. In exchange they were to occupy a 
tract of land of the same extent west of the Mississippi 
River in Arkansas among the Creek Indians. A dele- 
gation of chiefs was to visit the country and if " they " 
were satisfied with the country, the Seminoles were to be 
transported to it in three divisions, one in 1833, one in 
1834, and the last in 1835. Something was said about 
the payment of annuities, about the distribution of 
blankets and homespun frocks, and compensation for 
cattle and slaves stolen by the whites. But the point that 
concerned Osceola most of all was that the Seminoles 
were expected to leave Florida and live among the Creeks 
west of the Mississippi ! Still there was no reason to be 
distressed about it, he thought, for it was to be done only 
if the Florida Indians were willing to make the change, 
and he knew that the Seminoles would never consent to 
leave Florida. With arms folded across his breast and 
a calm eye he watched one chief after another take the 
pen and make at the end of the treaty his mark or signa- 
ture. 

A short time afterwards seven chiefs and the faithful 
negro interpreter, Abraham, left for Arkansas to examine 
the new country. The delegation returned in April, 1833. 



204 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



Then the Indians asked, " When will the white men 
meet the red to hear what they think about going towards 
the setting sun?" 

" There will be no council/' said the agent. " You 
promised to go if the delegates liked the land. They 
like the land. Now you must go without any more talk." 

" No, no ! We promised to go if we were suited with 
the land when they told us about it!" exclaimed the 
Indians. 

The agent repeated, " You gave your word to your 
white father that you would go if the country pleased 
your chiefs. The chiefs were well pleased." Then he 
added, " They met your white father's messengers on 
the new land and pledged their faith that you would go. 
They promised for you. They signed another treaty. 
You agreed to do as your chiefs wished. Your chiefs 
have promised your white father. There is no help for it. 
You must go." 

When Osceola heard this he was in a rage. The 
white men had got the chiefs away from their own people 
and induced them to make promises they had no right 
to make. What right had Charley A. Mathla to promise 
for him or to promise for Micanopy, the head chief of 
the nation ? 

Osceola was not the only indignant one. All the 
Indians were in a fury with the government agents. 
They felt that they had been tricked, caught by a phrase 
they did not understand. They believed that undue influ- 
ence had been brought to bear upon their chiefs. Had 



THE TREATY OF PAYNE'S LANDING 



the delegates been allowed to return to Florida to give 
their report, some Indians would have heard it with 
favor, but all were angered because the chiefs had been 
influenced to make an additional treaty at Fort Gibson 
without consulting their people. But the Indians were 
usually as severe in their judgment of their own race as in 
their condemnation of another and they did not spare the 
chiefs who had signed the additional treaty. Men and 
women alike held them in supreme contempt. They 
scolded, they ridiculed till the men in self defense declared 
that they had not signed the treaty, and gave so many 
reasons why the Seminoles should not go west that the 
spirit against emigration was more positive than ever. 

The faith of even those Indians who had striven to 
keep peace with the United States was destroyed by the 
" Additional Treaty " and a general feeling of ill will pre- 
vailed. The Indians refused to surrender negroes claimed 
as slaves by the white people, and were so hostile that 
in 1834 General Jackson, then president of the United 
States, determined to force them to leave if necessary. 
He had the treaties ratified by the Senate, appointed a 
new Indian agent, and ordered that preparations for the 
removal of the Indians should be pushed with all speed. 

In October the new Indian agent called a council. 
This time Osceola went about urging the Indians to 
attend and advising the chiefs about their talks. In the 
council the slender, energetic, young warrior sat next to 
the fat, inactive old chief, Micanopy. Osceola had no 
right to speak in council, but there was no man there who 



, THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 

200 

had more influence. If Mieanopy wavered under the 
stern eye of the white man, he heard the voice of Osceola 
in his ear and did the young man s bidding. 

Mieanopy denied signing the treaty of Payne s Land- 
ing Whefshown his mark he declared that he had no 
touched the pen, though he had been on the point o 
do n- so " for," he said. " the treaty was to examine the 
counfry and I believed that when the delegation returned 
he report would be unfavorable. It is a white mans 
treatv and the white man did not make the Indian under- 
stand it as he meant it." He finished by saying ha he 
had agreed to the treaty of Camp Moultrie and hat by 
t 4ms of that treaty southern Florida ^nged todhe 
Seminoles for twenty years, scarcely half of which had 

^Other chiefs spoke and said bitter things. The agent 
became angry and threatened to withhold the annuity 
unleS the fndians signed a paper agreeing to leave -ith- 

eyes flashed Are; he sprang up bke 
a tiger and declared that he did not care if the Indians 
never received another dollar of the white man's money 
ne and his warriors would never sign away their liberty 
nd land for gold. Then,, drawing his knife ; fron l is eh, 
he raised it high in the air and plunged it through aocu 



is with this 1" 



HOSTILITIES 



207 



VI. HOSTILITIES 

The new Indian agent, General Thompson, had 
marked Osceola as a man of power. He thought it wise 
to make friends with him. So when Osceola went to 
Fort King he was cordially received by the agent. Once 
on returning from New York the latter brought Osceola 
a beautiful new rifle, which was worth one hundred dol- 
lars. Osceola was pleased with the rifle and pleased with 
this evidence of General Thompson's regard for him. 
But he was not to be bought by gifts to forsake the cause 
of the Seminoles. 

He saw that the white men were actually getting 
ready to move the Indians; they were preparing trans- 
ports at Tampa and making ready for the sale of the 
Indians' cattle. Another council was called at Fort King. 

On the night before this council, Osceola spoke to a 
gathering of chiefs who had met secretly in Micanopy's 
village. He told them that, whatever happened in council, 
they must be prepared to resist force with force should the 
white men attempt to compel the Indians to emigrate. 
They must take advantage of every opportunity to buy 
powder and lead, to increase their store of food and 
ammunition. He advised them to declare in council their 
wish for peace, but to maintain firmly that they were 
determined never to leave Florida. 

At the council the next day, Jumper acting as spokes- 
man for the Indians expressed these views. When he 
had finished, the agent arose and rebuked the Indians 



208 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



for breaking their word. His charge of dishonor ex- 
cited the Indians and many lost their tempers. In the 
confusion that followed, General Clinch threatened to 




order in the soldiers if the Indians did * ^^^^i|> ' 
not sign the compact to leave Florida, 0 ^^^CS"~' 
without further parley. This threat ^'^i^^^^ ' ... 
proved to be effectual. Several chiefs * 1 1 M,/ 

signed, but three of the leading chiefs refused to do so. 
For punishment General Thompson ordered that their 
names should be stricken from the list of chiefs. This 
enraged the Indians and the agent realized that he had 
lost more than he had gained by the council. He sent 



HOSTILITIES 20 g 

word to Washington that the Indians were in no mood to 
leave Florida and that there would be bloodshed if an 
attempt was made to enforce the treaty of Payne's Land- 
ing. Accordingly, the date for embarking was changed 
to a more distant date. 

Osceola made good use of the delay in adding to his 
war supplies ; but one day he was refused powder. This 
indignity surprised and offended him. A refusal to give 
an Indian firearms or powder was evidence of distrust, 
and Osceola was used to respectful usage. " Am I a 
negro, a slave?" he exclaimed. "My skin is dark, but 
not black, I am a red man, a Seminole. The white man 
shall not treat me as if I were black. I will make the 
white man red with blood and then let him grow black 
in the sun and rain." His language became so violent 
that General Thompson ordered him put in irons and cast 
into' prison. 

Alone in the dark, Osceola ceased to rave. Thoughts 
of a terrible vengeance soothed him. He planned it all 
carefully. After several days had passed he seemed 
repentant. He asked to see General Thompson and said 
he had spoken in anger. He expressed his friendship 
for the agent and his willingness to assist in persuading 
the. Indians to live up to their treaty. 

After he was liberated Osceola seemed as good as his 
word. His manner at the Fort changed. He even 
brought in two or three sub-chiefs to sign the treaty. 
The agent was completely deceived and believed he had 
gained a powerful ally. 

Four Ind. — 14 



210 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



When the Indians learned that Osceola had been put 
in irons they felt his wrong as their own and wished to 
visit the agent with swift punishment. But Osceola 
looked at the place on his wrist where the fetters had been 
and said : " That is my affair. Leave General Thomp- 
son to me. Your part is to see that no Indian leaves 
Florida." 

Almost daily something happened to show both In- 
dians and white men that they could no longer live 
together in peace. One evening while a little company 
of Indians was camping in a hammock cooking supper, a 
party of white men came upon them, seized their rifles., 
examined their camping equipment and then fell to beat- 
ing them. While they were occupied in this way some 
friends of the campers came up and seeing the plight of 
their comrades opened fire on the white men. The latter 
returned the fire and killed an Indian. 

While the Indians blamed the white men for this 
affair the white men held the Indians responsible for it. 
They ordered out the militia to protect the citizens and 
punish the Indians. Both parties believed that the time 
had come for definite action. By definite action the white 
men meant the transportation of the Seminoles, the In- 
dians meant war. The former pushed forward prepara- 
tions at Tampa, and issued a summons to all Indians to 
come in, sell their cattle and pledge themselves to assem- 
ble on the first of January 1836 for their journey. The 
latter held a council and decided that while the Indians 
promised to assemble at the beginning of the year it 



HOSTILITIES 



211 



* should be for war rather than emigration. They further 
agreed that the first Indian to sell his cattle and prepare 
in good faith to go should be punished with death. 

As might be inferred from this decision, there were 
some Seminoles whose loyalty to their race could not be 
counted on. A chief, Charley A. Mathla, who had been 
one of the delegates to visit Arkansas, was one of these. 
As he was known to be on good terms with the white 
people, Osceola ordered that he should be closely 
watched. He soon learned that there was only too much 
ground for his suspicion. Charley was getting ready to 
leave ; he had driven his cattle to Tampa and sold them to 
the white people. If he were allowed to go unpunished 
other wavering ones would soon follow his example. 
Osceola wished his warriors to know from the start that 
punishment for disobedience to him would be more swift 
and terrible than anything they need fear for disobeying 
the white man. 

With a few faithful followers he hastened through 
the wilderness towards the village of Charley A. Mathla. 
There scouts brought him word that Chief Charley was 
on his way home from Tampa. The war party hid 
among the trees where the trail to the village passed 
through a hammock. They had not waited long before 
the chief came swiftly along the path. Osceola rose and 
fired. His comrades followed his example. Charley A. 
Mathla fell forward on the path without a word, dead. 

One of the party seized a handkerchief that the 
dead chief grasped in his hand and showed Osceola 



212 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



that it was full of money. Osceola took the offered 
treasure and cast the glittering coins far from him. The 
Indians watched them disappear among the green leaves 
with surprise and regret. But their leader said, " Do not 
touch his gold; it was bought with the red man's blood." 



VII. THE WAR OPENED 

In a short time news of the murder of Charley A. 
Mathla reached Fort King. With it came a rumor that 
the Indians were holding councils of war in the villages 
of the Big Swamp. But it was impossible for the agent 
to get definite information, as the woods were full of 
hostile Indian scouts. The runners who were on friendly 
terms with the men at the fort feared to venture beyond 
the protection of its guns lest they should suffer the fate 
of Charley A. Mathla. 

After the shooting, Osceola and his followers repaired 
to the fastnesses of Wahoo Swamp, where for some time 
Indians had been assembling from exposed villages. Here 
were collected vast stores of ammunition and food sup- 
plies, herds of cattle, women and children and old men. 
both red and black, and many warriors of the two races. 

Osceola was now recognized as a war chief. In 
council no one was listened to more eagerly than he. 
While addressing the assembled warriors he said : " Re- 
member, it is not upon women and children that we make 
war and draw the scalping knife. It is upon men. Let 



THE WAR OPENED 



213 



us act like men. Do not touch the money of the white 
man or his clothes. We do not fight for these things. 
The Seminole is fighting for his hunting grounds." 

Definite plans were made for opening the war at 
once. Negroes living in the neighborhood of Fort Brooke 
near Tampa had brought word that Major E. L. Dade 
was to conduct reinforcements from Fort Brooke to Fort 
King. The detachment would pass on its march within 
a short distance of Wahoo Swamp and might easily be 
surprised and overpowered. Plans were formed for such 
an attack. Several days would probably pass, however, 
before Major Dade's force, encumbered with cannon and 
marching through marshes, would reach the point best 
suited for the Indians' attack. 

In the meantime Osceola must make a visit to Fort 
King. There was a white man there whose scalp he had 
sworn should be the first one taken in the war. With a 
small band of warriors he started on his errand of 
vengeance. 

Osceola knew General Thompson's habits. He was 
accustomed to take a walk after dinner while he smoked 
a cigar. Frequently he walked some distance from the 
fort, going out towards the sutler's house, where he some- 
times had business. Osceola determined to wait for him 
in that vicinity. 

He and his comrades lay closely concealed, and 
watched without ceasing. But for several days the 
weather was unpleasant and the agent did not go beyond 
the fort. Still the Indians waited. At last a fine day 



214 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



dawned, and shortly after noon Osceola saw from his 
hiding place two men approaching the sutler's house. 
From afar he knew that one was General Thompson. He 
crept closer to the path ; his friends followed ; all were 
silent as serpents. The unsuspecting men came nearer, 




INDIAN DEPREDATIONS 

laughing and talking in easy security. Rising on one 
knee, Osceola took steady aim and fired. Instantly other 
shots rang through the still air and the two men lay dead 
on the earth. 

The Indians quickly scalped their victims. Then they 
hurried to the sutlers house, where they found several 
men at dinner; they surrounded the house and shot and 



THE WAR OPENED 



215 



scalped its inmates. When this was done they set fire to 
the house and took their leave with an exultant war 
whoop. No one pursued them; those who heard the 
shots and the war whoop, and saw the flaming house sup- 
posed a large war party had come to attack the place, and 
were afraid to investigate. 

The Indians meanwhile left the neighborhood with all 
speed. They had stayed longer than they had intended 
and they were anxious to reach the swamp in time to 
share in the attack on Major Dade and his men. They 
set off through the forest, a grim and terrible company, 
smeared with war paint and stained with human blood. 
Their knives and tomahawks were red; fresh scalps 
dangled from their belts or swung from poles carried over 
their shoulders. At the head of the company strode Osce- 
ola. On his head he wore a red and blue kerchief twisted 
to form a turban, from whose center waved three splen- 
did ostrich plumes. 

Darkness fell before the company reached the swamp, 
but as they drew near to its outskirts they saw the lu- 
minous smoke of camp fires over the trees and heard faint 
yells. This told them they had come too late for the 
struggle, but in time to celebrate the victory. They were 
' greeted by the revelers with wild shouts of delight. All 
joined in a hideous dance about a pole on which were 
fastened the scalps that had been taken that day. 

From the old chief, Micanopy, and his sub-chiefs, 
Jumper and Alligator, Osceola learned the details of that 
day's action. About two hundred warriors had taken 



2l6 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



their station in the outskirts of the swamp to await the 
coming of Major Dade and his one hundred and ten sol- 
diers. They sent out scouts who brought them exact 
information concerning Dade's route and all his move- 
ments. They knew the information to be reliable, for 
they obtained it from Dade's guide, Louis, a slave/who 
was in sympathy with the Indians and Maroons. On the 
third day of their march the troops reached the point the 
Indians had decided upon as best adapted to their pur- 
pose. But neither Micanopy nor Osceola was present and 
many were unwilling to act without them. Some young 
warriors set out for Micanopy' s camp and forced him to 
come with them to the scene of action. Even then he 
advised delay and it took all Jumper's eloquence to induce 
the old man to give the command for attack on the fol- 
lowing morning. 

Meanwhile Dade's men spent a good night in their 
camp, little dreaming how near to them was the enemy. 
On the morning of the twenty-eighth of December they 
resumed their march in good spirits. 

The Indians had left the swamp and hidden them- 
selves in a pine barren, near which the roadway wound. 
On one side was a deep swamp ; on the other, a thin pine 
forest with a swamp beyond it. They found hiding- 
places behind trees or on the ground sheltered by the saw 
palmetto and brush. 

From their hiding places the Indians saw the advance 
guard come into sight, reach, and pass them. Still 
Micanopy did not fire the signal shot. Now the main 



THE WAR OPENED • 217 

division was coming with Major Dade on horseback at 
the head, On marched the soldiers with unwavering 
tramp, tramp. The warriors crouched with muskets 
ready. Micanopy fired and Jumper raised the yell. In- 
stantly the green waste was awake with the flash and bang 




FLORIDA SWAMP 



of muskets, with death cries and savage yells. A white 
smoke hid the scene for a moment. When it cleared 
away, the road was strewn with the dead and dying. The 
Indians having reloaded their guns, rushed from their 
hiding places to finish their work. 



2l8 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



Some of Dade's men sprang to the thicket to seek 
refuge behind trees. They were followed and shot down. 
Others caught their feet in the heavy stems of the pal- 
metto and, stumbling, fell an easy prey to their pursuers. 
The officers who had escaped the first fire did their best to 
rally the men. The cannon was brought into action and 
added its roar to the din of battle. But its balls went over 
the heads of the Indians and they succeeded in shooting 
the gunners before they could do any harm. 

The contest seemed over. The warriors were scat- 
tered in pursuit of fugitives or busy scalping the dead, 
when a negro brought word to Jumper that a number of 
the soldiers had collected and were building a fort of logs 
with the cannon to protect them. Jumper raised the yell 
and called together his Indians for a charge on the little 
company of brave men who were making their last stand 
behind tree trunks placed on the ground in the form of a 
triangle. The soldiers had exhausted their powder and 
were able to offer only a feeble resistance to the savages, 
who shot them down without mercy. 

The Indians carried off their own dead and wounded 
— three dead and five wounded. But they left the bodies 
of Dade's men to tell their own story to those who should 
find them. So well were the commands of Osceola 
heeded that months later when white troops found the 
dead, their money, watches and clothes were untouched. 

The battle over, the Indians returned to the swamp to 
await Osceola, count scalps, and celebrate their victory. 
Of one hundred and ten soldiers only four escaped, 



OSCEOLA A WAR CHIEF 



219 



VIII. OSCEOLA A WAR CHIEF 



■ 1 ■ 



As a fire that has smoldered long- flames up in many 
places at once, so the war broke out with several actions 
in quick succession. The tidings of the slaughter at Fort 
King had not become generally known and the Indians 
had not slept after 
Dade's massacre, be- 
f o r e preparations 
were afoot for an- 
other assault. 

Scarcely had the 
victors wearied of 
shouting and danc- 
ing when an Indian, 
exhausted, not with 
revelry, but with 
swift running 
through forest and 
swamp, came into 
the camp, bringing 
important news. A 
council of chiefs was 
called. The bowl of 
honey water was passed around and when all had drunk 
from the deep ladle, the messenger rose to give his mes- 
sage. He told the chiefs that General Clinch had left 
Fort Drane with two hundred regulars and four hundred 
Florida volunteers, and was already far advanced into the 




INDIAN RUNNER 



220 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



Indian country. Indeed he was even now approaching 
the Withlacoochee River. 

Micanopy, with his usual caution, advised the In- 
dians to keep out of the way of such a large force. But 
his hearers were in no mood to listen to his faint-hearted 
advice; they had been emboldened by their recent vic- 
tories and responded to the fearless daring of Osceola. 
One hundred and fifty Indians and fifty negroes volun- 
teered to go with Osceola and Alligator to intercept Gen- 
eral Clinch and his six hundred soldiers. 

With one accord the warriors bounded off towards 
the ford of the Withlacoochee. There the water was only 
two feet deep, and as it was the only place where the 
river could be crossed without boats, there could be little 
doubt that the white general would lead his forces to this 
point before attempting to cross the river. 

For a day and a night the Indians waited to give their 
enemy a deadly welcome. In the neighborhood of the 
ford there was no sound to interrupt the music of the 
river, no sight to disturb the peace of the dense forest. 
But on the morning of the following day, scouts came 
skulking through the trees, and in a few minutes the 
apparently unpeopled place was alive with red men. 

The scouts brought word that General Clinch and two 
hundred of his men had already crossed the river. They 
had made the passage slowly and laboriously in an old 
canoe that carried only eight at a time. But they were 
now advancing on this side of the river. Many a war- 
rior's heart failed him when he heard this. But Osceola's 



OSCEOLA A WAR CHIEF 



221 



dauntless spirit rose to the emergency. He cheered his 
men with words of such good courage that they were 
soon following him with new enthusiasm to a hill, where 
he posted them in a hammock to await the enemy. 

On the morning of the last day of the year, General 
Clinch advanced towards the hammock. He was aware 
of the presence of hostile Indians, but not knowing of 
the outrages they had already committed, he felt reluc- 
tant to attack them. He sent messages to Osceola telling 
him that it was useless for the Indians to struggle against 
the white man and advising him not to enter upon a war 
that could end only with the destruction of his race. 

To this humane counsel Osceola replied with haughty 
independence: "You have guns, and so have we; you 
have powder and lead, and so have we; you have men, 
and so have we; your men will fight, and so will ours 
until the last drop of the Seminoles' blood has moistened 
the dust of his hunting grounds." He added, what then 
seemed to the whites an idle boast, that after a few 
weeks' further preparation the Seminoles would be ready 
to enter upon a five years' struggle for the hunting 
grounds of Florida. 

At about noon General Clinch charged up the hill. 
He was greeted with a lively fire, but his men were tried 
fighters and were not checked. On they came calmly re- 
turning the fire of the enemy. The Indians and negroes 
offered a determined resistance. If they wavered, the 
shrill and terrible "Yo-ho-e-hee" of their leader gave 
them new courage. Everywhere his white plumes waved 



222 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



in the thick of the fight. The fire of his warriors broke 
upon the enemy always at the most unexpected point, 
and had it not been for the bravery of General Clinch, 
the Indians would have driven the soldiers back to the 
river, on the other side of which four hundred volun- 
teers were watching the battle. But they held their 
ground, and at last Osceola was so seriously wounded 
that he ordered a retreat. 

For an hour and twenty minutes the battle had raged. 
The loss of the Indians was slight. When at Osceola's 
signal the wild yells ceased and the Indians disappeared 
in the forest, they bore with them only three dead and 
five wounded. General Clinch had suffered much heavier 
loss. Eight of his men had been killed and forty 
wounded. 

The Seminoles were highly elated by the success of 
the first engagements of the war. They regarded the 
battle on the Withlacoochee as a great victory, and Osce- 
ola's praises were on every lip. The old and timid 
Micanopy, head chief of the Seminoles by birth, kept 
that title of honor. But Osceola who, before the war 
opened, was not so much as a sub-chief and had but two 
constant followers, had been the real power in planning 
the hostile acts that opened the second Seminole war. 
All knew this and they now made him head war chief of 
the nation. He was only thirty-two years old, but he 
had the respect of all. With his own hand he had taken 
vengeance on the great white man who had wronged him ; 
with his own hand he had punished the traitor chief, 



THE SEMINOLES HOLD THEIR OWN 



223 



Charley A. Mathla. He had planned the massacre of 
Dade's troops. With a small band of Indians and 
negroes he had engaged the forces of General Clinch for 
more than an hour, inflicting heavy loss. His words had 
kindled the spirit of war throughout Florida. 

On the border, lawless young men were spreading 
terror and desolation; in the month of January sixteen 
well stocked plantations were laid waste by the Indians. 
In the distant swamp, Indian women were moulding 
bullets for the warriors. Through all the forest paths 
war parties were hurrying towards the camp of Osceola. 
The leader of each carried a bundle of sticks, each stick 
representing a warrior under his command. These were 
given to Osceola — but how many sticks there were only 
the Seminoles knew. 



IX. THE SEMINOLES HOLD THEIR OWN 

The hostile actions of the Seminoles at the close of 
the year 1835 convinced the War Department of the 
United States that the Seminole Indians would not sub- 
mit to be driven from one section of the country to 
another like sheep. Though the combined force of In- 
dian and negro warriors was not supposed to be greater 
than twelve hundred, their treacherous nature and the 
wildness of the country, made the task of subduing them 
so difficult as to require many times that number of 
soldiers. General Clinch was already in the field quar- 



224 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



tered at Fort Drane, not far from the village of Micanopy. 
There were several forts in the Indian country, but they 
were meagerly garrisoned. General Scott was made com- 
manding general of the army in Florida, with authority 
to call on the governors of South Carolina, Georgia, and 
Alabama for assistance. He went to work at once to 
raise a force for an Indian war. 

Meanwhile Major General Gaines, who was com- 
mander of the Western Military Department, started to 
Florida with a force of more than a thousand men. He 
ventured into the Seminoles' country with the hope of 
meeting them and fighting a decisive battle. He passed 
the scene of the Dade massacre and saw the work the sav- 
ages had done, and after burying the dead he continued 
his march to Fort King. But in the whole of his march 
he saw not a single Indian. He had expected to find 
supplies for his army at Fort King, but being disap- 
pointed in this, he was obliged to return to Tampa with 
all speed. 

While looking for the ford across the Withlacoochee 
River he ran into an Indian ambush and was so har- 
assed by the savages that he had to give up his plan of 
crossing the river and go into camp. He had ordered 
General Clinch to meet him in this neighborhood, and 
he sent out expresses to see what prospect there was of 
his arrival. The Indians were gathering in large num- 
bers, and he believed that if General Clinch arrived in 
time their combined forces could surround them and 
crush them. But his supply of food was so reduced 



THE SEMINOLES HOLD THEIR OWN 225 

that he was obliged to have his horses killed to provide 
the men with meat. All the while the Indians were 
lying in wait and assailing all who ventured beyond the 
fortifications of the camp. 

On the fifth of 
February a negro 
who spoke good 
English came to the 
camp and asked to 
see General Gaines. 
The latter supposed 
he was a messenger 
from General Clinch, 
and ordered that the 
negro be sent at once 
to his tent. To the 
general's surprise the msar and general gaines 
negro announced that he was Caesar, the slave of the 
Seminole chief Micanopy, and that he had been sent by 
the Indians to say that they were tired of fighting and 
wished to make a treaty of peace. General Gaines told 
Caesar that he had no power to make treaties, but that if 
the chiefs would pay him a visit the next day, he would 
grant them a truce and notify the President of the United 
States that his red children wanted to be at peace. 

Caesar had acted without consulting any one ; he had 
been a favorite and had his own way with Micanopy 
until he thought himself greater than his master. He 
had grown tired of the hardships of war and decided to 

Four Ind. — 15 




226 THE. STORY OF OSCEOLA 



put a stop to it. When he returned and gave a report of 
his visit, the Indians were so angry that they were ready 
to kill him. The negroes, however, defended him, and 
Osceola, fearing trouble between the allies, used his influ- 
ence to save him. Osceola's interference in Caesar's be- 
half displeased some of the chiefs so much that they 
deserted without ceremony. 

As Osceola was ready enough to visit the camp of 
General Gaines to see his force, he went with other chiefs 
on the following day, as Caesar had promised, to hold an 
interview with General Gaines. Scarcely had the inter- 
view begun when General Clinch arrived and seeing a 
crowd of Indians at the entrance of the camp fired on 
them. This action broke up all parley; the Indians 
thought they had been dealt with treacherously and fled. 

Since the Indian forces had been weakened and the 
strength of the enemy greatly increased, Osceola decided 
that it would be best for his warriors to withdraw and 
gave directions for them to disperse. The next day the 
two generals found their enemy gone. Their supplies 
were too low to justify an attempt to pursue them, and 
General Gaines returned to Tampa and General Clinch 
to Fort Drane without accomplishing anything. 

Though General Clinch had not attempted to follow 
the Indians, Osceola and his warriors lost no time in 
finding his stronghold. They succeeded in making his 
fine plantation at Fort Drane so uncomfortable that in 
July when his crops were at their best he was obliged to 
leave it. Osceola immediately took possession of the 



THE SEMINOLES HOLD THEIR OWN 



227 



place, and occupied it with grim pleasure until he was 
driven out a month later by Major Pearce. 

During the spring and summer several skirmishes 
between the Indians and United States soldiers occurred, 
in which the Indians and their black allies fought with 
remarkable pluck, perseverance, and success. 

The want of troops trained for Indian fighting, the 
unwholesome climate, ignorance of the country, the 
absence of roads and bridges, and the difficulty of getting 
supplies had made it almost impossible to invade Florida 
without large sacrifice of life and treasure. The people of 
the United States, not appreciating the difficulties, com- 
plained so much of the delay that General Scott was 
removed from the command and General Jesup was pro- 
moted to the command in Florida. 

In November, before General Jesup assumed control, 
an engagement took place which for a time threatened 
to close the war. On the eighteenth of November a 
force of five hundred soldiers attacked a company of 
Indians. After a fierce battle the Indians fled, leaving 
twenty-five dead on the field. This was counted by them 
their first defeat, for so long as they carried away their 
dead they did not admit themselves to be defeated. 
Three days later they rallied to meet General Call, who 
was advancing upon Wahoo swamp with over a thousand 
men. This was the stronghold of the Indians. Here 
their provisions, their cattle, their wives and children 
were hidden. The Indians had much at stake and made 
a strong defense. At last, however, they were compelled 



228 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



to retreat across the river. But they took their stand 
on the opposite bank behind a sand ridge, prepared to 
fight to the death. 

The commander knew that if he could penetrate 
the Wahoo swamp successfully he would bring the Semi- 
nole War to an end ; but before him rolled the swift dark 
waters of the Withlacoochee, and beyond waited the In- 
dians like tigers at bay. He decided not to make the 
attempt. 



X. OSCEOLA AND GENERAL JESUP 

On the eighth of December 1836, under most favor- 
able circumstances, General Jesup took command of the 
Florida War and entered upon an energetic campaign. 
He had under his command about eight thousand men. 
Among these were several hundred Creek Indians hired 
to fight the Seminoles with the promise of "the pay and 
emoluments, and equipments of soldiers in the army of 
the United States and such plunder as they may take from 
the Seminoles." 

It will be remembered that Osceola had told the In- 
dians that the war was not against women and children. 
General Jesup took a different view of the matter. His 
first step was to make a series of sudden raids upon the 
villages on the Withlacoochee in which he seized unpro- 
tected women and children. By his frequent sorties he 
drove the Indians south or divided them. On the twelfth 
of January he reported that he had sent mounted men in 



OSCEOLA AND GENERAL JESUP 



pursuit of Osceola, who was hiding with only three 
followers and his family. 

The capture of women and children broke the spirit 
of the Indians. They felt that if their wives and chil- 
dren must be sent to Arkansas perhaps they would be 
happier there with them than in Florida without them. 
Accordingly many listened with favor to General Jesup's 
invitation to come to Fort Dade and hold a council to 
decide on terms of capitulation. 

On the sixth of March, 1837, five chiefs and a large 
number of sub-chiefs met General Jesup at Fort Dade. 
They agreed to emigrate according to the terms of the 
treaty of Payne's Landing, but insisted that their negroes 
should be allowed to accompany them. This point was 
at last conceded them, and the fifth article of the terms 
of capitulation contained these words : 'The Seminoles 
and their allies who come in and emigrate to the west 
shall be secure in their lives and property ; their negroes, 
their bona fide property, shall accompany them west." 

Large numbers of Indians expressed their willing- 
ness to sign these terms and assembled at a point near 
Fort Brooke on Tampa Bay, where twenty-eight vessels 
waited in the harbor to transport them. Even Osceola 
is said to have sent word that he and his family would 
emigrate with the rest. The camp at Fort Brooke grew 
larger every day. 

General Jesup was well satisfied. He reported that 
the Florida war was ended. And indeed it might have 
been had the terms of the agreement been adhered to. 



230 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



But slave claims were pushed; unprincipled men went 
into the Indians' territory and seized negroes; there was 
bitter complaint against the fifth article of the compact. 
At last General Jesup was induced to change that article 
so that it should contain a promise by the Indians to 
deliver up all negroes, belonging to white men who had 
been taken during the war. 

This change was made with the knowledge and con- 
sent of only one chief, Alligator. When the Indians in 
general became aware that the terms of capitulation had 
been tampered with they were highly indignant. 

General Jesup appointed a day on which all negroes 
taken during the war were to be brought in, but no atten- 
tion was paid to his order. He then sent Osceola the 
following message: "I intend to send exploring parties 
into every part of the country during the summer, and 
I shall send out all the negroes who belong to the white 
people, and you must not allow the Indians or their 
negroes to mix with them. I am sending for blood- 
hounds to trail them, and I intend to hang every one of 
them who does not come in." 

When Osceola received this message and learned that 
ninety negroes had already been seized by General Jesup 
as belonging to the whites he declared that the agreement 
had been violated and that the signers were therefore no 
longer bound by it. He instructed those encamped at 
Tampa to disperse. The old chief, Micanopy, refused 
to do so or to give the command to his people. One 
night early in June, Osceola entered the camp and visited 



OSCEOLA AND GENERAL JESUP 



231 



the tent of the sleeping Micanopy. As he had always 
done before, the old man yielded to the wonderful per- 
sonal influence of Osceola and did his bidding like a 
child. 

On the morning of the fifth of June, General Jesup 
was awakened by an officer who came hurrying to tell 
him that the Indians had gone. Surely enough the 
great camp had vanished in the night. The captives 
had fled. Already they were safe in their marshy fast- 
nesses. Families were reunited; all had had rest and 
food and clothes. The coming sickly season would make 
it impossible to pursue them till their growing crops 
were harvested. The Seminole war with all its diffi- 
culties was reopened. 

Osceola, who a few months before had been a hunted 
fugitive with only three followers, without hope for 
himself or his people, was again a powerful war chief. 
With a brighter outlook his natural cheerfulness of dis- 
position returned, and he hoped and planned great things 
for the coming autumn. 

Early in September he learned that his good friend 
" King Philip " had been captured with eleven fol- 
lowers by General Joseph Hernandez. King Philip's 
son, Wild Cat, came to him, saying he had been, to 
St. Augustine to see his father, that the palefaces had 
treated him well and had allowed him to carry his father's 
messages to his friends. The old chief wanted Osceola 
to come to St. Augustine to arrange for his liberation. 

Osceola, always generous and ready to serve a friend, 



232 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



sent back to General Hernandez a finely wrought bead 
pipe and a white plume to indicate that the path between 
them was now white and safe and to inquire whether 
it would be safe for his return. 

Wild Cat soon returned to Osceola with presents and 
'friendly messages from the general. With the hope of 
gaining the release of King Philip, Osceola started 
for St. Augustine with a large attendance of warriors. 
Wild Cat went in advance to announce his coming. With 
a great show of regard General Hernandez went out to 
meet Osceola with a store of supplies. He met his ad- 
vance guard, and learning that Osceola would not ar- 
rive till evening, left word that Osceola should choose 
a camping ground near Fort Peyton, and went back to 
communicate with General Jesup. 

The next morning General Hernandez rode out 
dressed in full uniform and escorted by his own staff and 
many of the officers of General Jesup' s staff. He found 
Osceola and Chief Alligator with seventy-one picked 
warriors assembled under the white flag for council. 
The warriors had brought with them the women of 
King Philip's f amily, and about one hundred negroes to 
be given up in exchange for the prisoner. 

After the usual greetings and ceremonies General 
Hernandez took out a paper and said that General 
Jesup wanted to know the Indians' answer to these ques- 
tions : " What is your object in coming? What do you 
expect? Are you prepared to deliver up at once the 
slaves taken from the citizens ? Why have you not sur- 



THE IMPRISONMENT OF OSCEOLA 233 

rendered them already as promised by Alligator at Fort 
King? Have the chiefs of the nation held a council in 
relation to the subjects of the talk at Fort King? What 
chiefs attended that council and what was their deter- 
mination? Have the chiefs sent a messenger with the 
decision of the council? Have the principal chiefs, 
Micanopy, Jumper, Cloud, and Alligator, sent a mes- 
senger, and if so, what is their message? Why have 
not those chiefs come in themselves?" 

When Osceola heard these questions he struggled to 
answer. He began a sentence but could not finish it. 
Turning to Alligator he said in a low husky voice : " I 
feel choked. You must speak for me." Perhaps his 
suspicions were aroused by the questions ; perhaps he 
saw afar the lines of soldiers closing round his camp — 
at any rate he was deeply troubled. 

Finding the answers given by Alligator unsatisfac- 
tory, General Hernandez, following the orders of Gen- 
eral Jesup, gave the signal and the troops surrounding 
the camp closed in upon the dismayed Indians and 
marched them off to the fort. 

In this way was the man that the generals in Florida 
pronounced the war spirit of the Seminoles conquered. 



XI. THE IMPRISONMENT OF OSCEOLA 

Osceola and his warriors were taken by their captors 
to St. Augustine where they were imprisoned within the 



234 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



strong walls of the old Spanish castle of San Marco. It 
was very hard for these Indians who loved liberty better 

than life to be shut 
up in narrow dark 
cells, to be obliged 
to give up the war- 
path, to sit for 
hours, and days, 
and weeks, and 
months in inac- 
tion, not knowing 
what need their 
friends had of 
them but imagin- 
ing the heaviest 
possible misfor- 
tunes for those 
they held dear. 

Osceola could 
have stood the tor- 
ture of wrenched limbs and of fire with haughty spirit 
unbent. What was that to this torture of the white 
man's, the dim light, the quiet, the narrow walls, the 
waiting, the not knowing, the fearing of evil ? 

The warrior still held his head high, but gradually 
the fierce gleam in his eye changed to a look of gentle- 
ness, of unspeakable sadness, and his winning smile came 
to have so much sorrow in it that men said to each other 
after they left him, " His heart is breaking." He was 




FORT SAN MARCO 



THE IMPRISONMENT OF OSCEOLA 235 

allowed to see and talk with other prisoners. When 
Micanopy and other chiefs were brought to the fort he 
was told of their arrival. When Wild Cat, after fasting 
many days, escaped through the small window in his wall 
with the help of a rope made from his blanket, Osceola 
was aware of it. But none of these things seemed to 
move him. 

General Jesup told the chiefs that he would urge the 
United States authorities to let them and their people 
stay in southern Florida if they would agree to keep 
their tribes at peace, guard the frontier, and themselves 
accompany him to Washington. Micanopy showed a 
little distrust when he heard the proposition, but Osceola 
took off his proud head dress and removing one of the 
beautiful plumes from it handed it to the man who 
had betrayed him, saying simply: "Give this to my 
white father to show him that Osceola will do as you 
have said." 

The suggestion made by General Jesup was not con- 
sidered favorably by the government, but he was in- 
structed to carry out the Jackson policy of transporta- 
tion. He had collected so many captives at St. Au- 
gustine that he feared trouble and decided to separate 
them. He sent all the negroes to Tampa and the In- 
dians to Charleston, S. C. Late in December the Indians 
were shipped on the steamer Poinsett. Among them 
were Osceola, Micanopy, Alligator and Cloud. Besides 
the chiefs one hundred and sixteen warriors and eighty- 
two women and children were sent to Fort Moultrie. 



236 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



Osceola's two wives and little daughters were in the com- 
pany. They arrived at Charleston on the first day of 
January, 1838, after a quiet voyage. 

At Fort Moultrie, Osceola was treated with much 
consideration; he was allowed to walk about the enclosure 
and to receive visitors in his room. Still he ate little and 
every day grew more wan and thin. All the chiefs were 
so low-spirited that great efforts were made to cheer 
them. A very popular actress was then playing at the 
Charleston theater, and knowing the Indian's love of 
whatever is gay and spectacular, the authorities at the 
fort decided to take the chiefs to the theater on the sixth 
of January. 

Public sympathy had been excited by reports of the 
capture, imprisonment, and failing health of the once 
terrible Osceola. The theater was crowded with Charles- 
ton people more anxious to see the chief than the beautiful 
actress. The Indians were led into the brilliantly lighted 
hall filled with staring men and women. They looked 
neither to the right nor to the left, but took their places 
in quiet and watched with steady eyes and unsmiling 
faces the entertainment provided for them. Osceola 
had made no objection to coming, but he sat amidst the 
mirth and glamor, so sad and stern that those who had 
brought him there and those who had come to see him 
felt rebuked. His trouble was too real to be easily com- 
forted, too deep to be an amusing spectacle. The papers 
of the day recorded the strange scene of the captive 
Osceola at the play in poetry and prose. 



THE IMPRISONMENT OF OSCEOLA 



Later an incident happened in which Osceola took 
some interest. George Catlin, who had traveled for sev- 
eral years among the Indians and was regarded by them 
as a friend, came to the fort to paint the portraits of the 
chiefs for the United States government. When Mr. 
Catlin asked Osceola if he might paint his portrait the 
latter seemed greatly pleased. He arrayed himself in his 
gayest calico hunting shirt, his splendid plumed turban, 
and all his ornaments, and stood patiently while the 
artist worked. Mr. Catlin enjoyed painting the fine head, 
with its high forehead and clear eye. He made two por- 
traits of Osceola, both of which are now in the collec- 
tion of Indian portraits at the Smithsonian Institution, in 
Washington. 

Mr. Catlin came to be well acquainted with the chiefs 
whose portraits he painted, and used to have them come 
to his room in the evenings, where they all talked with 
great freedom. He felt deep sympathy for Osceola, who 
told him all the details of his capture. When Osceola 
learned that Mr. Catlin had been west of the Mississippi 
he asked him many questions about the country arid the 
Indians living there. 

But every day Osceola's health grew more feeble and, 
on the day when the second portrait was finished, he be- 
came so ill that he was thought to be dying. He rallied, 
however, and when Mr. Catlin left a few days later, it 
was with the hope that Osceola would regain his health 
and strength. He requested the fort doctor to keep him 
informed about the chiefs condition. 



2 3 8 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



XII. THE END 



The day after George -Catlin left Fort Moultrie, Osce- 
ola had a severe attack of throat trouble. He refused to 
take the doctor's medicine. A Seminole 
medicine man came and gave the sick 
man Indian remedies. Osceola's wives 
nursed him tenderly, but in spite of all 
they could do he grew rapidly worse 
and died on the thirtieth of January, 
1838, after three months of captivity. 

Dr. Wheedon sent the following in- 
teresting account of his death to Mr. 
Catlin : 

"About half an hour before he died, 
he seemed to be sensible that he was 
dying; and, although he could not 
speak, he signified by signs that he 
wished me to send for the chiefs and for the officers of 
the post, whom I called in. He made signs to his wives 
by his side, to go and bring his full dress which he wore 
in time of war ; which having been brought in, he rose 
up in his bed, which was on the floor, and put on his 
shirt, his leggings and his moccasins, girded on his war 
belt, bullet-pouch and powder-horn, and laid his knife by 
the side of him on the floor. 

" He then called for his red paint and looking-glass, 
which latter was held before him. Then he deliber- 
ately painted one half of his face, his neck, and his 




"MEDICINE MAN' 



THE END 



239 



throat with vermilion, a custom practised when the 
irrevocable oath of war and destruction is taken. His 
knife he then placed in its sheath under his belt, and 
he carefully arranged his turban on his head and his 
three ostrich plumes that he was in the habit of wear- 
ing in it. 

" Being thus prepared in full dress, he lay down a 
few moments to recover strength sufficient, when he rose 
up as before, and with most benignant and pleasing 
smiles, extended his hand to me and to all of the officers 
and chiefs that were around him, and shook hands with 
us all in dead silence, and with his wives and little 
children. 

" He made a signal for them to lower him down 
upon his bed, which was done, and he then slowly drew 
from his war-belt his scalping-knife, which he firmly 
grasped in his right hand, laying it across the other on 
his breast, and in a moment smiled away his last breath 
without a struggle or a groan." 

Osceola was buried with some ceremony near the 
fort. Officers attended his funeral and a military salute 
was fired over his grave. This show of respect com- 
forted a little the grief-stricken friends of the chief. 

It is said that Osceola was not allowed to rest in peace 
even in death. A few nights after his burial men of the 
race that despised him as a barbarian came by night, 
opened his grave and cut his head from his body. But 
openly only respect was shown to the remains of the 
greatest chief of the Seminoles. His grave was in- 



240 



THE STORY OF OSCEOLA 



closed with an iron railing and marked with a stone bear- 
ing the following inscription: 

Osceola, 
Patriot and Warrior, 
Died at Fort Moultrie, 
January 30, 1838. 

The war did not 
close with the death of 
Osceola. Wild Cat took 
command and the 
trouble continued till 
1842. During the war 
the Seminoles lost many 
brave warriors ; several 
thousand Indians and 
five hundred of their 
allies were driven from 
their homes in Florida 
to a strange land which 
they were obliged to share with their old enemies, the 
Creeks. 

The white men gained the lands of the Indians, a vast 
and rich new territory for settlement, removed a refuge 
for runaway slaves, and established peace on the South- 
ern frontier. For these gains, however, they had paid a 
heavy price in treasure, in human lives, and in honor. 




REMOVAL OF 
SOUTHERN 
INDIANS 



END 



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